Ok guys, this is just a one off so don't expect anymore chapters from it. I will put a littlethough on though as the next chapter, you don't have to take it, it's just if you want to :)

Albus Severus Potter stared up at the huge doors in nervous and excited anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting impatiently for since he had received the letter offering him a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Around him, the rest of the first-years had stopped jostling each other and were, like him, waiting to finally enter the castle.

Rubeus Hagrid, the abnormally tall gamekeeper, climbed the marble steps and knocked on the door with a huge fist. Albus had known him since birth, so he was aware of the half-giant's kindly nature; a boy standing next to him looked utterly terrified of Hagrid's incredible size. In the moonlight, the streaks of silvery grey in the massive man's tangled, wiry beard were more obvious than usual, and Albus felt guilty he had not noticed before: was his friend ill?

Then all his thoughts were forgotten as the young witches and wizards fell suddenly silent. The doors were opening. Albus felt his heart speed up. Calm down, he told himself. He knew he wasn't the only one with irrational fears – almost all the first-years seemed to be shaking with nerves.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" A familiar figure dressed in blood red robes appeared at the top of the steps, beaming down at the students. "I'm sure you are all freezing out there in the cold, so follow me, now... Ah, Trevor, there you are..."

Albus grinned to himself under the cover of the darkness. Professor Neville Longbottom, who was a friend of the Potter family, was famous for losing his toad, Trevor, who had been constantly eluding him for decades. Another first-year was evidently familiar with the story, too: Albus heard a muffled snigger from somewhere on his left. He turned to see the pale, pointed face of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy glaring at him.

"You like you're about to throw up," Scorpius sneered. He twirled his wand elegantly, giving the other boy a poisonous look.

Albus sighed. His brother James had provided him with countless different comebacks for situations like this, but he could not recall any of them. "You don't seem so good yourself," he replied, pretending to be concerned. He drew his own wand from inside his cloak, and spun it on his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a look of envy rise up on Scorpius's face.

The twelve and a half inch mahogany wand Albus held was worth more to him than anyone guessed. Everyone who had seen it agreed that it was the most beautifully carved wand they had ever seen. He remembered the day he had bought it from Ollivander's with his parents.

"You must be the young Mr. Potter," the wandmaker had observed. "With parents such as yours, you will undoubtedly grow up to be yet another powerful sorcerer...undoubtedly..." He had examined him searchingly with his misty eyes, until it seemed he had forgotten his customers completely. Then he had looked abruptly away from Albus and instead at Harry. "We have had too many powerful sorcerers in this world; so many of them follow the wrong path. But a lot of them are as good as others are evil."

Albus had realised that Ollivander still considered himself indebted to Harry Potter. It was a tale he had been told many times. His father had also tried to explain to him why he was not sure if he liked the old wandmaker. Albus finally understood. He thought those silvery eyes were the creepiest he'd ever seen.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches?" Ollivander's description of Harry's wand had brought Albus down to earth. "And Mrs Potter... maple, only seven and three quarter inches, with a dragon heartstring?"

Harry and Ginny had nodded. It still amazed Albus how Ollivander could remember the details of every single wand he'd ever sold. And he must have sold hundreds, being the sole wandmaker of Britain and possibly the most famous in the world. But out of all the wands he'd made, Albus's was the best.

Ollivander had made Albus wave wands until his arm ached, and he was thinking that maybe he wasn't even a proper wizard. Maybe they would never find a wand which would work properly for him. His letter from Hogwarts could have just been a mistake and he wasn't even magic at all. Albus had shuddered when that theory had occurred to him: Squibs were becoming steadily more common.

But something about Ollivander's patience and belief had made Albus try one final wand. And it had been the perfect match. The thin, supple willow wand was perfectly balanced in his hand; its handle was shaped to fit snugly in his palm. Intricate patterns ran around it like vines, smoothly passing from one to the next, never ending and completely unique. The wand was the exact length of Albus's forearm, twelve and a half inches, and contained a single strand of silver unicorn hair.

"This wand is special," Ollivander had warned, "and it is to be treated with extreme care and caution. I have made many wands, but nothing like this. I am sure it will prove itself worthy of a wizard from a family like yours. But remember that it is not like other wands. It must be meant for you, though," he mused thoughtfully. "The wand chooses the wizard, after all..."

The Potters hadn't replied – they weren't sure if Ollivander was talking to them or himself – but Albus knew he should heed the wise old man's warning. So far, he hadn't noticed any differences between his wand and any others, apart from its beauty and the way it seemed to work for him like no other wand did. But that was true for any wizard.

"Albus..." he distantly heard a voice mutter. "You'd better come in before we shut the entrance."

Albus glanced around in embarrassment, finding that Scorpius and the other first-years had already disappeared into the castle. "Sorry- you know how much I daydream, Nev- I mean, Professor Longbottom!" He grinned sheepishly at his father's old friend, and followed him up the steps just in time.

For one moment, he thought he was still outside in the freezing cold, then he realised with a shock that the wave of ice that had just passed through him was not a breeze, but –

"A ghost," he murmured in reverence, staring at the figure hovering beside him. He tore his gaze away from the pearly white man, only to see hundreds of other ghosts flooding into the Entrance hall like a swarm of flies.

"Hello there," exclaimed a cheerful voice. Albus saw the speaker was a tall ghost wearing posh robes accompanied by a large ruff. "I'm the resident ghost of Gryffindor tower, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. I do hope some of you will be in my house, and help us win the house cup again. It is a great honour to-"

Scorpius let out another rude cackle. "Nearly-Headless Nick! Ha! Well, I won't be in your house, I can tell you that. Slytherin for me!"

Albus's dislike for the other first-year increased. Even if he hadn't been aware of Draco Malfoy's reputation, he would have hated Scorpius anyway. His voice had a disrespectful, unkind tone, and his words revolted Albus. Why would anyone want to be in Slytherin?

"Er...Smarten yourselves up, because you'll be Sorted in a minute." Professor Longbottom's attempt to draw attention away from the minor drama was obvious, but it worked. There were a lot of scared mumbles, and a scuffle to avoid being the first to enter the hall, as the teacher began to explain about the Sorting.

"As you may or may not know, Hogwarts has four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Your house will be chosen by the Sorting Hat, who will take into account your qualities and where they will flourish best. This ceremony is very important, as your house will be like your family during your seven years at Hogwarts. Each and every one of you will, I am sure, be a credit to whichever house you are put in.

"Now... follow me to the Great Hall, please..." Professor Longbottom spun on his heel and marched towards the pair of doors that were soundlessly swinging open.

Albus took a deep breath. He couldn't avoid the Sorting forever. I will be in Gryffindor, he told himself grimly as he fell into step behind his cousin Rose. Dad said choice matters as much as abilities... He tried to believe his father's parting words, but his fears did not go away.

Albus stepped into the Great Hall and felt his mouth open in awe. It was even better then James had described. The ceiling seemed to just open up onto the night sky, and the levitating candles were almost indistinguishable from the stars above them. The students were seated around four huge wooden tables, and at the other end of the massive room Albus saw the staff table. Apart from Professor Longbottom, the Herbology master, who was conjuring up a wooden stool, he recognised none of the teachers around it. But the wrinkled, bearded man seated in the middle on the throne-like chair must, Albus thought, be the Headmaster: Professor Godricson.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" the old wizard exclaimed, standing up. "I'm sure you first-years are all hungry, so I will save my speech for after the feast. But before we tuck in to our food, our new Students must be Sorted. Professor Longbottom?"

Longbottom turned towards Albus and the other young witches and wizards. "Applesmith, Rosanna," he read from a scroll of parchment. A tiny girl with overlarge robes and two long plaits scurried to the stool in front of the staff table. She sat down, and Longbottom placed a hat on her head. The Sorting Hat. The school waited in silence for a few moments, and then suddenly –

"Hufflepuff!" the Hat shouted to the hall. A cheer erupted from the table to Albus's left as Rosanna made her way towards it, blushing fiercely. She sat down between two skinny witches, who were evidently her sisters, and tried to blend in with the mass of other students.

"Barber, Keith," called Longbottom, and Albus saw a thickset boy with messy blond hair stride towards the three-legged stool. He snatched the Sorting Hat and put it on. The pause was not as long this time.

"Slytherin!" yelled the Hat, which Keith yanked off before sprinting to the table which was cheering this time. A few boys clapped him on the back, and he took a seat near them. He looked pleased with his new house.

"Belby, Joe", the boy who had looked so scared by Hagrid's size, became a Hufflepuff, and then "Clearwater, Clarissa" and "Davies, Benjamin" were both put on the Ravenclaw table. Then "Edwards, Katrina" tried on the Hat, and became the first new Gryffindor.

Albus fidgeted nervously as his turn to be Sorted loomed closer and closer. A sweat broke out on his forehead and he tried to make his breathing more even. He couldn't be in Slytherin. He just couldn't.

"Malfoy, Scorpius." The pale young wizard shuffled towards the stool, his face a light shade of green. Albus permitted himself a small smile: he wasn't the only one with fears about being Sorted. He watched Scorpius pull the brim of the Sorting Hat over his eyes.

"Slytherin!" the Hat shrieked immediately, and Scorpius headed for the Slytherin table, looking both relieved and smug. He sat down beside Keith Barber, with whom he began an animated discussion. Albus thought he knew what – or rather who – was the topic of their conversation; they kept shooting him malevolent glances and sniggering.

"Nightingale, Lawrence!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Obsidian, Charlotte!"

"Slytherin!"

"Oracle, Penny!"

"Ravenclaw!"

Then "Pine, Alfie" was put into Hufflepuff, and finally –

"Potter, Albus!"

Albus walked slowly across the hall. He heard murmurs spread as students put together his surname with his resemblance to his father. He sped up, trying to block out all the whispering. He thought he saw Professor Longbottom give him a tiny wink before the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes.

"Albus Severus..." muttered a quiet voice in his ear. "Well, well... you really don't want to be in Slytherin, do you?"

The Sorting Hat's tone reminded Albus of someone, but he couldn't think who. Then he remembered: Mr Ollivander. Both voices seemed to just... know things, like they could read his mind...

"Yes, I can see all your thoughts," the Sorting Hat confirmed, "and at the moment, the most dominant thing you're thinking is that you don't want to be in Slytherin... that you can't be in Slytherin...

"Oh, but what is this? There is a source of amazing power on you... something with old magic... a wand? Oh, be careful with that wand, Mr. Potter, please be careful..."

Albus wished he Hat would hurry up and decide on his house. He'd already been warned about his wand's capabilities. It felt like he had been sitting on this wooden stool for ages, even though it couldn't have been more than a minute.

"Slytherin would help you to control and experiment with your wand... but in Ravenclaw you would learn to understand it better... Hufflepuff would teach you to believe in yourself and trust in your wand... and Gryffindor is the only house in which you would be brave enough to use it as it should be used... Now, where shall I put you? Each house wants you – or your wand – and each can help you equally. So... I suppose it is up to you, Mr Potter."

Gryffindor, please, Albus begged. And, at last –

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat cried, and Albus pulled it off, a grin spreading across his face. He headed proudly towards the Gryffindor table – his table. Finally he had been Sorted. Now he could relax and watch the rest of the ceremony without butterflies in his stomach, then enjoy the spectacular feast with the other Gryffindors.

Albus scanned the table for his brother, but he couldn't see him. Instead, he sat next to Lawrence Nightingale, who smiled tentatively at him. He beamed back, and settled down to wait for the last first-years to be Sorted.

"Quirrell, Dylan!"

"Slytherin!"

"Rogers, Poppy!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Root, Thomas!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Snidget, Amelia!

"Gryffindor!"

"Smith, Michael!"

"Hufflepuff!"

And then there was just one first-year waiting to be Sorted: "Weasley, Rose!"

Albus crossed his fingers under the table as his cousin placed the hat over her red hair. The whole school held its breath –

"Gryffindor!" declared the hat, and Rose bounced over to the Gryffindor table to sit on Albus's left.

"Well done!" they whispered to each other in unison, grinning simultaneously as golden dishes of food appeared on all the tables. The babble of the students' chatter rose up again and the whole school tucked in to steaming plates of hot food.

Albus smiled contentedly at his neighbours and helped himself to a bit of everything. He would worry about the Sorting Hat's warning later. Right now, he wanted to enjoy the feast.

This was the start of seven long years at Hogwarts.