THE NEW TRIO, FIRST YEAR: UNICORN BLOOD in the FORBIDDEN FOREST

It has been nineteen years since the last battle of the war was fought at Hogwarts Castle. The school has since been repaired and today the children of the heroes—and villains—who once fought there have come to begin their magical education. In this age of peace they expect to find nothing worse waiting for them within its walls than pranks and punishments for late assignments, but peace has always been imperfect and there are shadows in the Forbidden Forest that stretch beyond the castle doors.

NOTE: This will not be compatible with The Cursed Child. I have neither read the book nor seen the play and currently have no plans of doing either, so don't expect any purposeful similarities or storyline correlations. This story is otherwise compatible with all canon not stemming from that source.

CHAPTER ONE: September the First

"Personally I think a revised and updated edition of Hogwarts, A History is long overdue. I mean, the current version doesn't even get up to the 1990s, which was a pretty big decade for the school what with the war that got fought there and how half the castle was basically torn-down and rebuilt!" Rose let out a disgruntled huff of a sigh and crossed her arms. "It's so outdated it's almost not even worth reading," she lamented.

"And yet, let me guess, you read it three times?"

"Four," Rose admitted. She could feel her cheeks turning pink.

The older students laughed but it didn't feel malicious; they all flashed smiles at her as they chuckled or chortled and one of them whose name Rose had already forgotten leaned over to pat her approvingly on the shoulder.

"I told you, she's going to be one of us." That was Dominique, one of Rose's many cousins, and she sounded pleased about the idea of Rose being sorted into Ravenclaw like she and her siblings had been. Rose was hoping to go to Gryffindor like her mum and dad, but she wouldn't be upset if she ended up in Ravenclaw instead. Having now met and been welcomed by Dominique's friends and fellow Ravenclaw students, she felt even better about the possibility than she had out on the platform.

Dominique was four years older than Rose, beautiful, popular, and a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She didn't look like the average Beater—tall and willowy, with silky hair that was silvery-blonde at the root and a darker red-gold where the tips brushed her shoulders—but she was said to be ferocious on the pitch. Having played a few pick-up games at family gatherings with and against her cousins over the years, Rose could back that statement up. Some of the Ravenclaws sitting with them flew on the team with Dominique; Rose guessed that the others had simply gravitated to her brusque-but-charming cousin because of Dom's cheerful personality and stunning good looks. She wasn't exactly at the center of everyone's focus, but no one in their crowded train compartment was ignoring her either. Rose wasn't sure how much of that was due to the drop of Veela-heritage that Dom had gotten from her mother but given that nobody was ignoring her, either, she had to think that most of the people there genuinely liked her cousin, not just her charms.

They hadn't complained when Dominique had ushered two burgeoning first years into the compartment with them at least, which Rose appreciated. It was a much warmer reception than James's friends had given them when Rose had poked her head in to see if there were any free seats for her and Albus in with them.

Rose now turned to Albus, her favorite cousin and best friend, who was sitting next to her on the bench, but when she saw his face she forgot what she had been about to say. Albus's coppery cheeks had faded to a sickly taupe-gray and his knuckles were clenched so tight atop his knees that she could almost see the bones shining through his skin.

"You know," she said loudly, turning back to Dominique, "I feel a little queasy actually. I think it's probably just motion sickness. I'm going to go for a walk, see if that helps settle my stomach. Come on Albus, you can make sure I don't get woozy or vomit or something."

Waving absently to the half-heard farewells and sympathies from the Ravenclaws, and ignoring both Albus's protests and Dominique's offer of assistance, Rose bustled Albus out the door and slid it shut behind the both of them. She pulled him down the hallway a little, far enough that she was reasonably sure that Dom and her friends wouldn't be able to overhear, and then asked, "What's wrong?"

"What?" said Albus. "Me? Nothing. You're the one who's motion-sick. Since when do you ever get—?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm not really sick," she said. "But you looked like you were about to be."

"Wait, you made that up?"

"Of course," said Rose. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Albus. "What, would you rather I'd asked what was bothering you in front of everyone?" He didn't answer right away so Rose continued, rather more pointedly, "Would you have answered if I had?"

Albus ducked his head, dodging her gaze. "Nothing's wrong," he muttered.

Rose knew that was a lie so she ignored it. "Is it motion-sickness, do you think?" she asked. "The train is rattling a bit. We can go back and see if Dom's got something that'll help—"

"No," Albus said quickly, paling further.

"I'll say it's for me," Rose started to offer, but he cut her off again.

"No, I don't feel sick. I mean, maybe a little, but it's not because of the train. I'm just—nervous."

The admission clearly pained him but Rose couldn't let him off with just that; she needed to know more. "Nervous about what?" she asked.

"Hogwarts, obviously," said Albus, but he still wasn't meeting her eyes. "Aren't you nervous?"

"Of course." Rose shrugged. "Mostly excited, though. We've only been waiting for this our whole lives!"

"Right," said Albus. His shoulders had been drawing in more and more as he spoke, and he now looked like a turtle with extremely untidy black hair. "Yep. I'm very excited."

Rose frowned at him. "You don't look it," she said bluntly. "You look like you're about to vom."

"It was just—crowded in there," he replied evasively. "Anyway, you should go back. I mean, if you're not actually sick…well, I'm sure Dom and her friends want to talk to you about Ravenclaw more."

"They were talking to both of us," Rose pointed out. "You just weren't saying anything back."

Albus shook his head, but he gave her a watery smile, which was an improvement over his previous expression at least. "No," he said, "they were talking to you. I was just sitting nearby."

Rose rolled her eyes again. "Well, then speak-up next time." She knew that Albus wasn't as outgoing as she was, but ordinarily that just meant he liked letting her take the lead so he didn't have to be. She wasn't sure why he was acting so strangely but it was starting to make her stomach feel as unsettled as she had claimed it was. She squinted at him the way she would have at a book written in particularly faded or tiny letters, as though she'd be able to figure out what was bothering him if she just looked hard enough. Unfortunately nobody had written Albus, A History for her to read so that didn't help.

The train car they were in gave a clang and swayed sideways, making both of them stumble; Rose braced herself on the wall but Albus tripped and almost landed on his knees before he managed to catch his balance again. "Let's find somewhere to sit," he suggested. "Somewhere else to sit, if you don't want to go back and have the Ravenclaws fawn over you some more."

"They were not fawning," Rose retorted heatedly, following Albus down the hallway. "Anyway, our stuff is all back there."

"You can go back if you want," Albus said over his shoulder. "I'm going to find somewhere that's not so crowded."

Rose huffed in irritation but she didn't go back. She and Albus had been talking about going to Hogwarts together since they had learned how to talk. She wasn't about to sit with other people instead of him now that they were finally on their way!

They passed a few compartments that only had two or three students in, but Albus kept walking so Rose walked with him. She was trying to remember if he had said anything on the platform that might give her a clue why he was acting so oddly, but she'd been too caught-up in her own excited nerves to pay attention to anything else. She'd barely even heard her dad telling her to do well on her tests; she'd been too focused on gawking at the big scarlet steam engine while all the stories she'd ever heard about Hogwarts tumbled around willy-nilly inside her head to do more than grunt in reply. Of course she would do well on her tests and outscore everybody else; she'd gotten the top scores almost every year at Muggle primary school after all. She wasn't worried about keeping her grades up at Hogwarts—much.

When Albus stopped Rose almost tripped over his feet in her distraction. "Last compartment," he said to her, sliding the door open with a grin. "Empty. Looks like it's for us."

Rose followed Albus inside and looked around. It looked just like the compartment that they had been sitting in with Dominique and her friends save for the absence of cheerful Ravenclaw fifth years to talk and joke with. Rose stifled a sigh and took a seat on one of the long, empty benches. Albus settled down on the other one and leaned against the window, watching the world pass by outside.

She quite generously gave him ten minutes to settle his nerves before she said, "Okay, so seriously Al, what's bothering you?"

Albus sat upright again with a jerk. "What?" he said, his voice tight. "Nothing's bothering me. Why?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "I have known you since we were in diapers. Since we were born. Please. I can tell when there's something bothering you." She sniffed and added, "You're not even doing a good job of hiding it anyway. I bet even James would notice and he's got the emotional sensitivity of a garden gnome."

That got her a smile, but only a smile, and a weak one at that. It should have earned her at least a laugh if not a follow-up quip but Albus said nothing, just turned to stare out the window again. He fidgeted with the side seam of his denims, picking at a loose thread.

Rose counted slowly to twenty, then said, "Albus Severus Potter. You had just better tell me what's going on right this minute or else." She used the voice her mum used when she was at the end of her patience. It never failed to get results for Hermione.

It got results for Rose, too. Albus turned from the window, flinching heavily, and met her eyes. His were full of guilt and repentance. "Sorry," he said. "I'm not trying to put you off. I just—I don't know how to explain…"

"Just try," Rose said encouragingly. "Remember, I'm used to translating your nonsense into proper words."

"Ha, ha," said Albus, which was another good sign, sort of. He sighed, laced his fingers together, and worried at his thumbs like he was trying to scrape off old nail varnish. "Okay, well, I guess it sort of started with James, only not really, because I was worried even before he started teasing me, but then I—"

The door to their compartment slid open and Rose turned to face the interruption with a blazing glare. She had finally gotten Albus to talk, and somebody had chosen this moment to intrude—?

The intruder was a skinny blond boy who looked to be the same age as them. He had a pinched, pointed face and he was paler than old ivory. He was wearing robes, not Muggle clothes, and there was a large trunk in the hallway behind him. "Good afternoon," he said, "excuse me. I'm so sorry to intrude." His voice was shrill and Rose realized, as she stopped glaring, that he looked nervous. "I was just—I was wondering if you would mind if I sat with you? There's nowhere else that's free…"

"I guess," Rose snapped in a voice that said you'd better not, "if you really have to."

Somehow the boy managed to go paler. He hesitated in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Well…" he said.

"It's fine," said Albus, "come on in. There's plenty of room."

Rose glared at him but Albus wasn't looking at her so he didn't see. The blond boy shuffled inside, dragging his trunk behind him. There was a covered basket on top. Rose wondered what he had in there—probably a cat or a maybe a rat, although she supposed it could also be a toad. He put the basket on the bench but when he tried to lift the trunk into the overhead luggage rack it proved to be too heavy for him. Albus and Rose got up to help, Rose grudgingly, and together the three of them wrestled the thing into place.

"I don't know how you're going to get that out again," Rose observed flatly.

The boy frowned. "Oh," he said, "I didn't think of that…"

"We'll help you get it down when you need it," Albus assured him.

"If we're still here," Rose said bluntly. "Our things are back in another compartment with our cousin. We'll be heading back there at some point. We just wanted to get some air. That's why we were sitting here. Alone."

Albus shot her a frown. "But we can help you get it down before we go, at least," he said, elbowing Rose in the ribs. She sniffed and sat down again, planting herself firmly in the middle of her bench. Albus gave her a pointed look, as though she was being rude; Rose ignored him. If this boy wanted to come intrude on them that was fine, but Rose wasn't going to squeeze herself into a corner to make him comfortable. They'd been here first, after all. If he didn't like the accommodations, he could leave.

Albus slid into the space between Rose and the window—there was plenty of room on the wide benches for several people to sit, after all, so it wasn't as though she'd been taking-up more space than she had a right to, no matter what Albus seemed to think—leaving the whole other bench for the blond boy with the pointy nose. He sat down next to his basket and smiled nervously at both of them. "Thank you," he said. "You've both been very nice. I appreciate it." He cleared his throat, went somehow even paler—Rose was starting to wonder if he even had blood in his veins—and said in a high, tight voice, "My name's Scorpius Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you both." He extended his hand.

For a moment his thin, white fingers hung there, swaying slightly with the motion of the train, in the empty space between their benches.

Then Albus leaned forward and closed his sturdy brown fingers around Scorpius's boney hand, shaking it firmly. "I'm Albus Potter," he said. "Nice to meet you too."

"Rose," said Rose, when they both turned to look at her. "Rose Granger-Weasley. I know your name."

Scorpius drew back like he'd been stung by something, his reach for Rose's hand forgotten. "Oh yes?" he said. His voice was even higher and tighter now. "Well your names aren't exactly unfamiliar either."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Of course they aren't," she said tartly. "We know who we are, thanks. You're not pointing-out anything we haven't heard a dozen times before."

"He didn't actually say anything about it," Albus protested quietly. "You don't need to jump down his throat."

Rose ignored him, keeping her narrowed eyes fixed on Scorpius. "I've been reading-up on history," she told him. "Malfoy is a name that comes up a lot, recently too. Any relation to Draco Malfoy? Or Lucius Malfoy?"

Scorpius's cheeks were still pale but now their bone-white pallor was broken by two bright pink spots under each cheekbone, like angry rosebuds about to uncurl. "My father," he said in clipped tones, "and my grandfather. Yes."

Rose gave a little start of surprise. She hadn't expected that answer—but suddenly her father's words on the platform came back clearly through her distraction. "Oh," she said. "I don't think my dad likes you much."

"I don't think we've been introduced, your father and I," Scorpius said coldly, "so how he can have any opinion about me, I'm sure I have no idea."

Rose barked a laugh. "Do you talk like that all the time?" she asked him. "Or are you just showing-off for school?"

Scorpius's chilly indignation slipped, crinkled-up in confusion, and collapsed. "What?" he said. "No, I—I always talk like that." He paused. "How else should I talk?"

"Don't worry about it," Albus told him. "There's nothing wrong with the way you talk. Rose is just being a jerk."

Rose gasped. "I am not!" she exclaimed, although a little voice in the back of her mind argued that Albus wasn't entirely wrong. "You just sound very pretentious, is all."

Scorpius frowned. "I'm not sure I agree with that," he said, but Albus was waving the argument away.

"So, what've you got in there?" he asked, pointing at the basket, which there was really no need to ask about, because anyone with sense could deduce that it held a cat. What other animal would one put in a basket that size? Even the largest rat would have been dwarfed, and toads weren't exactly basket-sitting creatures.

Scorpius grinned, pulled the lid off, and reached inside. When he drew his hands back out they held a small ball of pale fur between them. A striped tail drooped down beneath but the rest of the creature was curled up tight—a cat, just as Rose had thought.

Scorpius put the cat on his lap and coaxed it with gentle pets until it uncurled. A narrow face topped by ridiculously big ears looked out at Rose and Albus through bright blue eyes and Rose revised her assumption: this wasn't a cat, it was still a kitten. A tiny little ball of pale gold fur with darker stripes up and down its legs and tail and even across its face. Two arched stripes above each eye made the kitten look like it was raising its eyebrows in perpetual surprise.

"This is Snidget," Scorpius said. "We were going to get an owl, to make it easier for me to send letters home, you know? But my aunts wrote us a few weeks ago to say that one of their cats had had kittens, and did we want any, so we went to see, and—" He shrugged. "Well, one look at this little fellow and I was smitten." He beamed at the cat and lifted one of its paws, making it wave at Rose and Albus. "You can pet him if you like," Scorpius added. "He's very friendly. At least, he's been friendly with everyone he's met so far, although that's not actually all that many people, just my family…"

Rose hesitated, feeling somehow that petting the cat would be an admission of some kind of surrender, but Albus reached right over and scratched the little creature under its chin. It let out a purr so loud that he jumped and then laughed. Rose gave in and reached over to pet the kitten too but before she could touch it, Snidget jumped off of Scorpius's lap and up into the luggage rack overhead where he snuffled around, investigating every inch. He didn't seem to mind the way it swayed with the train's steady chugging motion.

Rose and Albus returned to their seats. "Snidget, huh?" Albus said. "So let me guess, you hope to fly Seeker for your house?"

"No," Scorpius shook his head, "I just named him that because of the color."

Rose had to admit that the kitten did sort of resemble a Golden Snitch, at least more than he did a Quaffle or a Bludger.

"Actually," Scorpius continued, "I think I'd rather be a Chaser."

"But you do want to try out for your house team?" Rose confirmed, mentally chalking Scorpius down as future competition—either for a slot on the team if they ended up in the same house, or across the other side of the pitch if they were sorted separately.

Scorpius nodded. "Of course," he said. "Don't you?"

"Well, yes," Rose admitted. "Obviously. Doesn't everyone?"

Albus laughed. "Maybe not everyone, Rosie...but most everyone we know." He explained to Scorpius, "Quidditch is pretty popular in our family. My mum even played for the Harpies for a while, and she reports on it in the Prophet now."

"Oh," said Scorpius, "Right. I think I've read some of her columns..."

"So why don't you want to go for Seeker?" Rose asked. "If you like Snitches enough to name your cat after one, I mean?"

Scorpius fidgeted with the embroidery on the edge of his sleeve and replied slowly, "Well, It's not that I'd mind playing Seeker if that's where I was put, but I'd rather play Chaser—If I could choose, you know?"

Albus nodded. "Same here," he said. "The Seeker's just..." he trailed-off with a shrug.

"Not really part of things," Scorpius said, agreeing with whatever it was that Albus had left unsaid. "You spend the whole game sort of flying off by yourself, ignoring everything else while everybody plays without you. You only come in at the end, really."

"And then all the pressure's on you, win or lose," Albus grumbled. "No thanks."

"That's not true." Rose frowned. "A proper team doesn't just laze-about and wait for the Snitch to be caught. They'll be scoring points and—"

"I know," Albus interrupted her, "but I'm just saying, from the perspective of the Seeker, it has to kind of feel like that, right? Like in the end, it all comes down to you. No matter what happens, you're the one who gets the blame—or the credit, I guess—because you're the one who makes the last move in the game."

Rose didn't stop frowning but she did nod. "I suppose I can see that..."

Scorpius, however, was nodding eagerly. "Right," he said, "and I'd rather be part of the match, you know? At least, I think I would. I assume I would." He shrugged. "I mean, I've never played in a real game before, obviously. Not with full teams." He laughed, as if the possibility of coming up with fourteen people ready to jump on brooms all at one time was ridiculous.

Rose smirked. "We have," she said. "Well, not on a real pitch or anything," she clarified when she saw Albus opening his mouth to argue, "but we've got a large family, like Albus said, and most everybody likes to fly. Between all our cousins and parents and aunts and uncles—and our unofficial aunts and uncles and their kids—well, when we all get together for anything, there's almost always Quidditch of some kind," she bragged.

"Wow." Scorpius's pale eyes were shining. "That would be incredible. We've got a pitch at my house—not regulation size or anything, a miniature one—but I've never flown with more than a handful of people before. That sounds..." He swallowed and continued in a slightly higher voice, "Anyway, I'm looking forward to trying out for my house team. Once I know what, er, what house that'll be, of course." He shook his head and added quickly, "Anyway, I think it's rubbish that first years aren't allowed to play."

"It is!" Rose said, in sudden sharp agreement with the prissy boy. "We can't even have brooms at school! It's absurd, completely unfair!"

Albus nodded his agreement but he looked distracted by some other thought and didn't comment; Rose didn't need him to, she was already off on a tear: "A person's merit should be judged on their merit, not their age! Maybe most first years won't be good enough to make their team, fine, but some of them would be, and isn't that the whole point of having try-outs? So people can try, and see how they do?"

Albus continued to nod along as she spoke—he'd heard, and participated in, this argument many times this summer for all the good it had done—but Scorpius leaned back in his seat as though frightened, or at least overwhelmed by her vehement tone and wide, angry gestures. Rose ignored him and kept ranting: "And if it were some kind of dumb unspoken rule, like a tradition, well that would be one thing, and that would be stupid enough frankly—but it isn't, it's more than that, because first years can't have brooms, and nobody is going to be able to fly on their house team with the rubbish brooms the school has! Dad told me, it's all broken-down old stuff that's mostly been left behind by students who didn't want them anymore—things that don't steer straight, or shake if you get them too high, or have hardly any bristles left."

"No," Scorpius breathed, looking appalled. "Really? Nobody mentioned that…"

Rose nodded hard but she didn't break stride to assure him she wasn't making it up. She was on a roll, and she was going to keep going until she ran out of words. "Mum pointed-out that it's not exactly fair for Muggle-born students or those who live in, like, cities or the middle of Muggle towns or whatever, and don't have anywhere they can go to fly without being seen, because they won't have had a chance to practice before they get to school, and all right, that's true, but so what?" Rose was talking faster now, her voice doing that annoying shrill thing it did when she got excited or annoyed, but she didn't let that deter her. "They can try-out their second year instead, and if they want to try-out their first they should be allowed to, too. Albus's dad flew on his house team his first year at school, and he was raised by Muggles and never flew before coming to school. And at the least they should let us have brooms there, because it would make it easier for everybody who's never gotten to fly before to practice if they don't have to share the school brooms."

She took a deep breath, ready to launch into the follow-up portion of her argument, but at that moment Scorpius's cat gave a high warble and launched itself from the luggage rack. The cat landed on the top of Rose's head, staggering her, dug its claws in for purchase, and launched itself again, this time springing almost straight-up. It caught the edge of the luggage rack over Rose's head with its front paws, scrabbled at the air with its back legs for a moment, and then hauled itself up over the rim. Rose heard a thump from above her as the cat settled into the middle of the rack and then soft, padding sounds as it walked around, exploring its new environs.

"OW!" Rose cried, grabbing her head. It didn't actually hurt that much—while her hair wasn't the impossible brown bush of a mane that her mother and brother possessed it was still quite thick, so she had barely felt the claws—but it had still been an unpleasant shock to have a cat, even a tiny kitten, use her like a springboard.

It didn't help that both boys were laughing at her. Rose glared at them, but for some reason that only made them laugh harder. Scorpius was hunched over in his seat, clutching his stomach, giggling like an obnoxious silver bell. Albus on the other hand had laughed so hard that he had rolled off the bench and now sat on the floor, howling.

"It isn't funny," Rose snapped, which made them both laugh even harder. "Oooh!" she stomped a foot in frustration; at eleven Rose was already tall enough that her feet reached the floor of the compartment, albeit just barely. The fact that both Albus and Scorpius were shorter, with feet that dangled an inch or more above the ground when they sat back the whole way, would ordinarily have made Rose feel nicely smug—but not when she was being laughed at.

She glowered at them until they finally stopped. Albus crawled back up onto the bench, wiping his streaming eyes on the back of his hand. Rose thought about pushing him back onto the floor but she resisted the urge. He did notice her glaring, though, and he bit his lip until he'd swallowed the rest of his laughter.

In the voice of somebody deliberately changing the subject, Albus said, "Maybe they think first year students are stressed-out enough without adding-in Quidditch?" He shrugged, casually, as if the idea had only just occurred to him and didn't carry much weight. "Maybe they want to make sure we have time to get used to Hogwarts before they add the pressure of training and matches and stuff."

Rose sniffed, unconvinced.

Scorpius looked thoughtful, his pinched little face furrowing in a speculative frown. "Could be," he said. "Then again, I'd think that Quidditch—or at least, being able to fly on your own broom whenever you wanted to that the pitch wasn't in use—would help bleed-off some of that stress, wouldn't you?" He looked down and added in a quieter voice, "Although I guess that depends on whether you'd be trying-out for the right team or not..."

"Worried about the Sorting?" Albus asked, his own voice low. Suddenly all trace of laughter was gone from his tone and posture. Rose looked at him curiously.

"What's to worry about?" she asked, frowning. "It's not like there's a wrong answer." She laughed, but neither of them joined-in.

"Maybe one," Albus muttered.

"Or three," Scorpius said under his breath.

"What are you two on about?" Rose asked.

The two boys exchanged a look, oddly united for people who had only just met, and Rose felt a funny little twist in her stomach as though she was getting motion-sick. Usually Albus only looked at her like that: like they could read each other's minds and didn't need words except to explain to other people what they were thinking about. It made Rose feel like she was "other people" all of a sudden, and she didn't like that one bit.

"What?" she demanded.

It was Scorpius who answered first: "My family has a…a tradition of all being sorted into the same house," he explained slowly. "I—I suppose it's silly," he tried to smile and failed badly, "but, well, practically everybody that I'm related to have all been sorted there, and I'm…worried I might not be." He looked down, biting his lip, and drew his shoulders in tight; he gave the impression of being done speaking for the foreseeable future.

Rose stared at him curiously, about to ask which house, but Albus spoke before she could. His words were so quiet she almost didn't hear him, and she turned quickly to look at him, as though that would help her hear better.

"Our family doesn't exactly have that," Albus said softly, "but most everybody has gone to Gryffindor. Our parents all did." He pointed between Rose and himself; she nodded, because it was true, although she didn't see what the point was of caring. "My brother's in Gryffindor, our cousin Fred is, our cousin Lucy is—"

"And Teddy was in Hufflepuff, and so's Molly, and Victoire and Dominique and Louis are all in Ravenclaw," Rose interrupted. She shook her head. "It's not a big deal, Albus."

"It would be if somebody got sorted into Slytherin," he said darkly.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh, what are even the odds of that happening?" she said, and even as she said it she realized it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to take the words back. Albus's eyes slid away from her and fixed on the floor in front of him, or maybe just at his knees, and his shoulders drew in as well, returning to the turtle-like posture he'd had before Scorpius had interrupted them. And suddenly Rose understood, but for once understanding didn't help; she still didn't know what to say. Had Albus been acting so strangely because he was worried about being sorted into Slytherin? Why, for Merlin's sake? she wanted to ask—but she didn't, because this time she thought before she opened her mouth, and she thought better of it.

For a while there was silence in their compartment aside from the quiet squeaking of the train and the snuffling sounds of Snidget the kitten exploring the luggage rack overhead. Then Scorpius spoke in a strange, strained sort of voice that rang with false good cheer:

"Funnily enough, it's Slytherin I'm hoping for," he said. He smiled but it looked as fake and empty as the bright, bubbly tone of his voice.

Rose didn't know what to say to that, either. Suddenly Albus laughed. "Well that's ironic," he said, and gave Scorpius a crooked grin. "How about this, if we both end up disappointed, we'll swap."

Scorpius's laugh was weak but his smile looked a lot more comfortable on his face now. "Perfect," he said, "it's a deal."

Rose squirmed, chewed her lip, chewed her hair, picked at her nails, then finally burst out with: "But why would you want to go to Slytherin?"

Albus shot her a pointed, appalled look, but she ignored him; maybe she was being rude by asking, but she had to know.

Scorpius didn't tell her to mind her own business or anything, but he did look a little miffed—maybe even hurt, but Rose dismissed that thought immediately. He just had a pallid, peaky face, that was all; it made him look wounded even when he was just sitting there, she decided. He answered readily enough, so he couldn't have been that insulted. "Why wouldn't I?" He raised his pointed chin and looked down his pointed nose at her, his voice lofty as he continued, "It's a house for people who are likely to do great things. What could be better than that?"

"Being brave," Rose countered immediately, "being smart."

Scorpius shrugged. "Both of which are traits that would certainly make it easier to do something outstanding with your life, I'm sure—but what's bravery really worth on its own, without a cause?"

Rose didn't have an answer for that. She looked at Albus, but his face was blank as well—blank and a little curious. For some reason that bothered Rose but she wasn't sure why; ordinarily she was very much in favor of curiosity, even if satisfying it necessitated breaking a rule or two. Maybe she was just feeling slighted because Albus had hardly hesitated to confess what was bothering him once Scorpius had spoken, when she'd barely been able to drag the beginning of an admission out of him on her own. She didn't like the idea that there were things he didn't want to talk to her about—and for that matter, why hadn't he mentioned anything before? They'd spent the whole summer, and most of the preceding months too, talking about Hogwarts; if he'd been bothered by the idea of getting sorted he should have said something to her about it earlier. They talked about everything to each other—or at least, Rose had thought they talked about everything.

Instead, he was talking to Scorpius Malfoy, a boy they hardly knew. A boy whose father and grandfather both had fought for Voldemort in the wars. A boy who wanted to be sorted into Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! Rose shook her head, baffled, and glared at the pallid, sharp-featured boy with the fancy robes and the colorless eyes. He wasn't looking at her, but rather at Albus, so he didn't see her scowl.

"It's not that I've anything against Slytherin itself, of course," Albus was saying, which Rose was pretty sure was a lie, "it's just not where my—our—family go, you know?"

Scorpius nodded. "Oh yes," he said. "I've nothing against—" He paused, smiled wryly, and amended his half-spoken statement to, "That is, Ravenclaw sounds like it could be a very interesting place, and I don't think Hufflepuff is likely to be half as boring as people say it is—you wouldn't work hard at something if it bored you, would you?—but I, ah…well, I don't really think I'm suited to Gryffindor, let's just say." He smirked, not deliberately, but as though he couldn't help himself.

"Neither do I," Albus said, and sighed.

"What?" Rose protested, "Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?"

"I don't feel brave," Albus muttered. "And I'm not even sure what 'chivalrous' means."

"Self-righteous, generally," Scorpius said, and immediately looked horrified with himself.

Rose would have treated him to a blistering retort but Albus laughed, so she let it go.

Scorpius smiled shyly. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean…" but he clearly had meant it, so he trailed off without saying anything else.

Rose sniffed. She leaned over to suggest to Albus that they return to Dominique and the compartment where they'd left their things, but before she could speak, he said, "Would your parents be upset, you think? If you were sorted—you know, not where you ought to be?"

Scorpius fidgeted with the embroidery on his sleeve. "I don't know," he said eventually. "They said it didn't matter, but…"

"You don't believe them." Albus's voice was flat; a statement, not a question. Rose looked at him curiously, wondering what sort of conversation he had had with Uncle Harry or Aunt Ginny about Slytherin that had put him in such a strange, pessimistic mood. Of course, he'd started to mention something about James, too, before they were interrupted, but even James himself often didn't know when he was being serious and when he was blowing hot air. Rose couldn't believe that Albus would lend much weight to anything his brother had said.

"Father told me he'd rather I got into Ravenclaw, actually," Scorpius said, his voice thick with skepticism. "Said he thought I'd enjoy my time at Hogwarts more as a Ravenclaw, but I suspect he was just trying to make me feel better."

Albus nodded. "My dad told me a bunch of bunk, too. He said you can—"

Rose waved him quiet so she could ask a question: "Why'd he say that about Ravenclaw?" she said, leaning forward to frown at Scorpius. "If he was in Slytherin himself, I mean—?"

"He was," Scorpius hurried to reassure her, "they all were, mother and father and my aunts and both sets of grandparents and just everyone, really. Everyone who still counts as family, anyway," he muttered under his breath, and before Rose could ask what that extraordinary statement meant he continued hurriedly, "but I'm extremely smart and I like learning things." He said it matter-of-factly, as though he didn't even realize he was bragging. "Mother and father have both said they wouldn't be surprised if I ended up in Ravenclaw; said they've been expecting it since I was quite young. Grandfather did, too, although I'm not sure if he was joking or not—sometimes it's hard to tell when he's being serious."

"We have relatives like that," Albus said, his voice thick with weary commiseration.

Scorpius's mouth twisted into a thin smile but it vanished quickly, replaced by a heavy frown. "Well, I'm not going to be," he said fiercely. "I'm going to be in Slytherin."

"Bully for you," Rose muttered, rolling her eyes again. Neither of the boys were paying attention.

"I hope so," said Albus. "And no offense, but I hope I'm not there with you."

Scorpius laughed. "Thank you, and I hope not as well. Where would you like to be? If you could choose, I mean?"

Rose expected Albus to say "Gryffindor!" immediately, but instead he hesitated. When he did speak, he did say, "Gryffindor, I think," but with less conviction than Rose had thought he would. She eyed her cousin speculatively, but said nothing. She was wondering now just how much Albus didn't talk to her about, and why he didn't.

He kept talking to Scorpius, though. Albus asked the prissy blond boy what kind of broomstick he would have brought along if first years were allowed to have brooms, and from there they launched into a conversation comparing the technical merits of the various broomstick makers both inside Wizarding Britain and abroad. Ordinarily Rose would have joined-in on such a discussion with enthusiasm, but right now she had no heart for the topic. Finding out that Albus would rather confess his thoughts to a stranger than to his best friend was unpleasant and she couldn't help but dwell on it. When Albus attempted to draw her into the discussion by mentioning her love of Comets she only grunted, preferring to sulk rather than talk with the two of them.

Rose had halfway worked herself into a truly foul mood when there was a knock at the compartment door. It slid open and a skinny young man with a thin, unfortunate mustache poked his head inside. "Anything off the trolley, kids?" he asked.

They all jumped to their feet, Rose groping in the pocket of her denims for the extra money her dad had slipped her on the platform when mum was pretending not to look; he had winked at her and said that there was nothing like a belly full of sweets to make the long ride go faster, and besides, once they got to the school they wouldn't get to eat until after everyone had been sorted. Better to fill-up on snacks ahead of time or else she'd be too ravenous to think about anything else and he didn't want her first sight of Hogwarts spoiled by a rumbling stomach.

Rose bought some of everything and a little bit more and carried her armful of goodies back to the bench with a smile of satisfaction. Albus, she noticed, had bought nearly as much as she had, but Scorpius had only picked out a few things. Rose frowned, fought a small but vicious internal battle, and then said, "Is that all you're getting?" Not wanting to embarrass him—not much, anyway—she quickly added, "I mean, if you didn't—er, didn't bring along enough pocket money for more, I can give you some. Dad handed me extra for sweets, so it's no big deal…"

"Oh no thank you," Scorpius said. "I've got plenty of gold with me, I just don't want any more. If I eat too many sweets at once, it upsets my stomach," he confessed.

Rose and Albus, both being possessed of the patented Weasley family cast-iron-bellies, turned to gape at him. Scorpius flushed and ducked his head, muttering, "It's not a big deal, I just don't want to walk into Hogwarts feeling sick. And I'm already nervous, so…"

He looked so miserable that Rose couldn't help herself; she took pity on him. "My little sis—brother, my brother has a more sensitive constitution than dad and me, too." She smiled at Scorpius but mentally she was berating herself for the slip-up; Hugo had only been her brother for a few months, and she was still getting used to the change, but that was no excuse to mis-gender him—especially in front of a stranger.

"Not that that's saying much," Albus interjected with a grin, "given that I think manticores have more sensitive constitutions than Rose and Uncle Ron."

Rose stuck her tongue out at Albus before turning back to Scorpius and saying, "He'll make himself sick trying to keep up with us if we don't pay attention and mum's not around to regulate."

"I haven't got a sensitive constitution," Scorpius said, frowning. "I just…can't eat too many sweets all at once, is all. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course there isn't," Albus said quickly. "Anyway, our gran sent sandwiches, if you want something to eat that isn't sweets. I can run back and get them from our trunks. I think there's some corned beef, maybe some turkey…"

"Oh that's not necessary," Scorpius said, "but thank you. No, my parents sent along plenty of snacks for the train ride. I'd be happy to share, if you want any—er, if you don't mind helping me get my trunk down again so I can get them out, that is…?"

Rose and Albus helped him wrestle the heavy trunk out of the luggage rack—Rose had a feeling that she did most of the work, as the tallest—a procedure that wasn't helped much by Snidget insisting on sitting on top of the lid and meowing at them the whole time. When it was finally down Rose said, "I vote we just leave it there rather than putting it back up again. There's plenty of room in here with just the three of us, it won't be in the way." She was also thinking that if they left the trunk on the floor then when she and Albus decided to leave and go rejoin Dom and her friends, they wouldn't have to feel guilty about leaving Scorpius in the lurch—or at least, Albus wouldn't have to feel guilty; Rose didn't see any reason why she ought to feel guilty that somebody else had been foolish enough to pack so much in their trunk that they couldn't lift it by themselves. That wasn't her fault. Still, at least this way the only trouble Scorpius was likely to have from his trunk after they left would be if he tripped over it.

Now he crouched down in front of the thing and lifted his kitten to his shoulder, where it dug its claws into his fancy robes and purred happily. He drew his wand from his pocket and tapped the lock on his trunk three times before it popped open. Rose didn't bother to restrain a snort; who bothered to put a magical locking spell on their school trunk? Scorpius didn't seem to hear her, or if he did he pretended not to because he said nothing, just pulled out a long, thin basket with a lid held on by leather straps. He closed the lid of the trunk and set the basket on top, turning his luggage into a makeshift table.

"Help yourselves," he said, revealing a meticulously-packed assortment of breads, cheeses, fruits, and pastries that looked more savory than sweet. The baked goods looked fancy enough that Rose assumed they had been purchased from a professional bakery, and half the cheeses she couldn't recognize by sight. Even some of the fruit looked unfamiliar, but she told herself that was probably just because it had all been cut-up already into bite-sized pieces for easier eating.

"Ooh, brilliant!" said Albus and reached for a handful.

Rose's stomach rumbled and she had to begrudgingly admit that it did look tasty, although she would have been perfectly happy to munch on nothing but Cauldron Cakes and Licorice Wands and Bertie Bott's Beans all the way to Hogwarts. Fortunately nobody forced Rose to confess that their trolley-bought lunch had been improved by the occasional slice of mango or wedge of brie so she could enjoy the feast with a mostly-clear conscience.

She had figured that as soon as they were done eating she'd find a way to hint to Albus that it was time to head back, but somehow over the next few hours she never got around to broaching the subject. Before she'd realized how much time had passed, the view outside the window had gone dark and the lights had come on all around the train, and suddenly there was a soft squealing sound of metal-on-metal and Rose could feel the Hogwarts Express slowing down.

"Albus—our trunks!" Rose cried, jumping to her feet. "We aren't even changed yet! Oh no! We have to hurry, come on!"

She practically dragged him out of the compartment, both of them tossing-off rushed waves and assurances over their shoulders that they would see Scorpius inside the castle, surely, and it was nice to meet you… "It was a pleasure to meet you both, too!" Scorpius called after them, sounding a little forlorn.

Rose hustled Albus down the hallway as fast as they could go without falling, although she banged her elbows against the walls twice. Then they were back in their original compartment, Dominique and her friends laughing at them and helping them pull their robes on over their heads—they were all dressed in their uniforms already—and settle their hats and shove everything else back into the trunks. "Don't worry," Dominique told them both, "somebody else will be along to get your things, they don't make first years carry anything. You don't come to the school the same way the rest of us do." Rose tried to tell her that she knew that, she'd read all about the boats and the graduation ceremony and everything in Hogwarts, A History, but the train had stopped by then and all the Ravenclaws were grabbing their trunks and their pets and shoving their way out into the hallway and Dominique was carried away by the press of the crowd. Rose was still fumbling with the last button on her robe when she and Albus stumbled down the steps and onto the Hogsmeade platform. They looked around wildly, trying to find a sign or direction in the chaos of black robes and shouting bodies and then they heard a familiar voice calling, "Firs' years over here! Firs' years this way!" and there was Hagrid's big, hairy face looming up over the heads of the crowd and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on," she said to Albus, and they hurried to join the other first years. They all looked frightened, but Rose was smiling again, excitement building up from her toes in a pleasant buzz that warmed her right to the tips of her ears. Beyond Hagrid she saw the lake, and the boats, and beyond that…

The castle. They had reached Hogwarts at last.

NOTE: Don't worry, I haven't abandoned my Green-Eyed Snake series! The fourth installment is coming along nicely and will be posted on Archive of Our Own once it is complete (the series is no longer permitted on FFnet due to site guidelines regarding text excerpts) but I could not resist the chance to actually publish the first part of this story on September the 1st, 2017! That was just too good to pass up. I hope you all enjoyed the start of this new, much more modern series of Hogwarts adventures and I look forward to hearing your compliments, complaints, questions, and suggestions!