Alright?
By: Lady Bordeaux
Albus Severus Potter had always trusted his father's advice. After all, it had never failed him before. So, why should he be wrong this time?
Yet Al couldn't help but have doubts.
His father claimed Slytherin wasn't so bad - and Al was inclined to believe him, if a man for whom he had great respect for was in said house. But then again, Al had never heard much about this "Severus Snape" character. He had heard numerous stories about Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and his courageous grandparents; but Al had yet to hear a truly inspiring tale about his second namesake.
"A brave man," was all his father had said, when Al had plucked up enough bravery to finally ask after years of wondering. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have made it through Hogwarts." At this point, the green-eyed Auror gave his middle child an almost sad, bittersweet smile. "I owe him my life."
And that was enough for Al, right? No, it wasn't an awe-envoking story that made him incredibly proud of his name. It wasn't a retelling of a life-changing experience with the man he had always been curious about.
But it would do. That's what Al had told himself after his father had left for the Auror's office. He hadn't gotten the response he'd been expecting, but it was better than no response at all.
Severus Snape had been a good person, despite being in Slytherin. That's all there was to it.
Now, however, Al was beginning to second-guess himself.
He was sitting in a train compartment, slumped against the window. Rose happily read from her copy of Hogwarts, a History. She was smiling brightly, completely carefree. It was unusual behavior for Rose; she was normally incredibly uptight.
But then again, she had nothing to worry about. Her sorting was practically set in stone. She would either be a Gryffindor, and make her parents proud, or a Ravenclaw, and make her parents proud. They wouldn't care either way. Sure, Uncle Ron was more inclined towards Gryffindor, but Rose was her daddy's girl. He'd still be proud of her if she was sorted in Ravenclaw. Aunt Hermione would be the same. She would write Rose the longest letter of congratulations, and everything would be fine.
However, Al's case was different.
He could picture it now. It seemed as though his father would be fine with any house, but Al knew better. Surely his father wanted him in Gryffindor. Al remembered, with slight envy, the look of pride on his face when James sent him a letter from Hogwarts, informing his parents that he was officially a Gryffindor. Like his grandparents. Like his namesakes.
Like his father.
Al simply couldn't imagine the same pride resonating from a placement in Slytherin. Yes, his parents would accept it. They would be okay with it.
But they certainly wouldn't be proud of it.
"Al? Albus, are you alright?"
Al was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of his red-haired cousin. She was staring at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her book had been put aside, and Al swore he could see a hint of worry in her eyes. Her fretting might be worse than Aunt Hermione's, he thought wryly.
"I'm fine," he responded, sitting up straighter. "Just thinking, is all." He struggled to keep her pointed gaze as her expression turned into a knowing one.
"You should stop worrying," she commented, picking up her book once more. "Your parents will be proud of you even if you are sorted into Slytherin." Al scowled at his cousin's unusually good perception. "Besides, James was just teasing. I honestly doubt you'll be put in Slytherin." She gave him an encouraging smile. "People always say how alike you and Uncle Harry are. In looks and personality."
Yes, and Uncle Harry was nearly sorted in Slytherin. "Not really," Al muttered. "I'm not very brave." He hung his head sadly.
He could almost hear Rose roll her eyes. "Nonsense, Al. You're spouting a bunch of nonsense. Remember that time when-"
"-when I killed that spider for you? Rose, it was tiny. Uncle Ron could've killed it, and that's saying something. That wasn't courage." His head jerked up as he spoke, and he saw Rose scowl.
"If you want to keep worrying, then fine. By all means, psych yourself out. But in my opinion, you ought to stop over thinking it."
She promptly pulled her book up, blocking any view of her face.
Al sighed. She was right, of course.
As usual.
...
"Longbottom, Alice!"
Al watched in nervous interest as Alice shakily walked up the stone steps. Her face had a green tint to it, and she nearly knocked the stool over as she sat down.
A few long moments passed. Then, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Alice's face split into a huge smile, and she plucked the hat off her head and handed it to her father, who was smiling proudly.
Al's nerves were nearly fried. He just wanted to get this over with. He had been standing here for what seemed like hours, and he was incredibly tired.
Just call my name already.
Five minutes or so passed until another name caught his interest.
"Malfoy, Scorpius!"
To Al's surprise, the boy he'd been warned to be wary of looked nervous. He glanced around in all directions as he slowly made his way towards the creaky, wooden stool. Once there, he sat down gingery, and that hat was dropped onto his head.
Minutes passed. Minutes. It seemed as though the Hat and the Malfoy boy were having an argument, what with the expressions of annoyance flashing across his face.
Suddenly, his face twisted into a look of pure horror.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The hall was silent. Not a single clap rung out, from student or teacher. Looking as though he might get sick, Scorpius tenderly climbed off the stool, pulled off the hat, and walked towards the table of shocked students.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, someone began to clap. Heads turned up towards the teachers' table.
It was, of all people, Minerva McGonagall. Head of Gryffindor House. She smiled gently as she clapped for the pale, terrified boy.
Soon, others began to follow suit. Clapping filled the hall, even from the other houses. As he sat down, Al could have sworn he saw that smallest hint of a smile on Scorpius Malfoy's face.
"Potter, Albus!"
The clapping stopped abruptly. All eyes were focused on the youngest Potter boy.
Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, Al glanced at Rose, who, despite their small spat on the train, gave him a warm smile. Go on, it said. You'll be fine.
After giving his cousin a barely discerable nod, he bit his tongue, mentally thawed his frozen nerves, and made his way up the steps.
Each step was lead. Al swallowed nervously as she settled down on the stool, and his heart began to thud even louder as the hat was dropped over his head.
Well, if it isn't another Potter. I can't say I was expecting you. James didn't mention a brother during his sorting.
Despite himself, Al thought dryly, Well, he wouldn't, would he?
The hat chuckled. A strange sense of humor, you have. Almost characteristic of Slytherin house.
Al felt as though his stomach had dropped out of his body. Really? He thought, trying desperately to keep his nerves in check. That's interesting.
Another dark, low chuckle. However, he chose not to elaborate. Alright, let's see. You're intelligent, I see. Very much so. Yes, very clever. Perhaps Ravenclaw?
Ravenclaw? Al hadn't thought of that.
But I sense that your wit is not entirely "in par," so to speak, with Ravenclaw house. No, your cleverness is different...once again, it seems as if another aspect of your personality is in line with Slytherin.
Al felt as though his breath had been knocked out of him. He couldn't even open his mouth to speak, couldn't even think. He heard the Sorting Hat sigh.
I suppose I'll have to convince you that Slytherin is the best house for you. We don't want another misplacement, like you father's, now do we?
Al scowled, anger building up inside him. My father was not misplaced. He was meant to be a Gryffindor, and so am I.
Are you sure? You say that you want to be in Gryffindor house. You say you want to be like your father. Yet your mind tells another story.
Al's heart began to beat even faster. Confused, he asked, what do you mean?
I think you know, Mr. Potter. You and your father certainly have one thing in common: he had an immense thirst to prove himself. So do you. You say that Gryffindor is the house for you, but in one part of your mind - the section you keep shut with lock and key - you don't want to be just another Gryffindor. You want to be different. You want to prove that you can prosper in any house. And you certainly can; you would simply prosper more in Slytherin.
Al's thoughts were a bit muddled at this point, but one thing was crystal clear in his mind: the Sorting Hat has a point. I have always wanted to step out from behind my father's shadow.
then,
...perhaps this is the way to do it.
Wait.
No.
I can't be a Slytherin. I can't! What would James think? What would Mum think?
What would Dad think?
I can see, by looking through your mind, that your father gave you some advice before you left. He was right. Not all Slytherins are bad - no, most certainly not. Severus Snape was, despite his faults, a good man. A brave man. In fact, I considered putting him in Gryffindor.
...really?
Yes. His sorting was short, but in that small amount of time, I saw great courage peeking out from behind his more Slytherin-based qualities. If anything, I believe it proves that Slytherins can be just as brave, if not braver, than Gryffindors.
There was a long silence inside his head. Al as painfully aware of how long he'd been on the stool, and wished he could see the faces of his cousins. Finally, he asked, Do you really think Slytherin is the best house for me?
Absolutely.
Silence. Then, alright.
Alright?
Alright.
"SLYTHERIN!"
If there were anything quieter than silence, than it would've been filling the hall at that moment. Taking a deep breathe, Al rose from the stool, pulled the Sorting Hat off his head, and made his way down the steps at a quick pace.
He passed a very shocked Rose on the way, and shot her a grin. Her disbelief vanished and was replaced with a small smile and a shake of the head.
You're unbelievable, Albus Potter, she would be saying. Unbelievable.
Then, much like what happened with Scorpius, the sound of clapping came from one single person.
Al turned his head and nearly died of shock when he saw the source.
There was his brother, standing up at the Gryffindor table. He was clapping very slowly, the stupidest grin on his face. "TOLD YOU!" He shouted, sounding triumphant, but surprisingly cheerful. "DOM, YOU OWE ME FIVE GALLEONS!"
Laughs rang out from the hall, and another person stood up to clap. It was Dominique, his cousin. She wore a smirk, and was shaking her head lightly. "SCREW YOU, POTTER!" She shouted, and more laughs erupted from the students. "Now get on over here, Al!"
Al couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his face as he jogged down towards the table. Dominique moved over, making a seat for him. He smiled wider as more people joined in on the clapping.
Through all of the noise and standing students, Al's eye was caught by a pale boy sitting at the Gryffindor table. He gave Al a knowing smile.
"Meet lots of new people!" His mother had said. "Just not the Malfoy boy, alright? He's trouble. Don't hang out with him, alright?"
But where's the fun in that?
Reviews would be fantastic! They really make my day.
I hope you liked it!
-Maria
