So this is my first chapter of my Harry Potter fan fiction, Black Rose. I don't own pretty much all of the characters, though I did create some, using J.K. Rowling's characters as their parents. Either way, I do not own Harry Potter! Otherwise, I would be rich and living in a one-story mansion in France with a white grand piano and watermelon tourmaline. Enjoy! And please review!

Chapter One

Don't Get Your Hair in a Tangle

As the train sailed away, Albus stared out the window gloomily, watching his father's waving figure disappear as the train took the bend. All that was ahead of him for hours was the open countryside and the clacking of the train over the tracks. And, of course, Rose's endless chatter.

Rose Weasley, Albus's cousin, was already dressed in her black Hogwarts' robes and she had her wand out, excitedly informing him on all the spells she had already learned and prattling on and on about Diagon Alley, Gringotts, Olivander's, her wand…

"It's birch, see?" She showed it to him. Apparently under the impression that he was paying attention. "With unicorn hair in it. Eleven-and-a-half inches, he said." Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, although they had the entire compartment to themselves. "That Mr. Olivander—he's quite old, isn't he? He scared me a bit—sort of creepy. Didn't you think so, Al? Albus?" She had to ask him twice before he realized she was asking him for something. "Albus, don't you think Mr. Olivander was a little odd?"

"Oh, umm…I guess so."

Rose's mouth twitched down a bit. "Are you listening to me at all?" she complained.

"Yes," Albus answered rather quickly. Rose rolled her eyes.

"What are you so distracted about?"

Albus hesitated. He had already voiced his fears on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. "Aren't you worried at all? About the Sorting?" His voice dropped. "Do you think there's a chance that I'd be sorted into Slytherin?"

His cousin was one of the few people he could confide in, along with his father. Rose didn't judge people…usually. And she was good at being understanding.

"There's always a chance," she answered honestly. "But, Al," she added as his expression drooped, "you are about the last person I would expect to be sorted into Slytherin. You're just like Uncle Harry!"

Al barely stopped himself from divulging his father's secret—that the Sorting Hat had thought about sorting him into Slytherin. But, according to Harry, the Sorting Hat would listen. Albus had a choice…right?

Rose picked up the abandoned topic about school and spells again, with Albus listening only faintly.

"Transfiguration sounds very interesting, of course, but I really think I'll like Charms. Then again, Defense Against the Dark Arts is very practical, and some of the spells you learn there are very useful…"

She continued like this for the better part of the hour, until the lunch trolley rattled along outside their compartment. "Something for the ride, dears?" asked the brittle voice of the little witch pushing the cart. Albus wondered if she had been pushing that cart since his dad was in school.

Once well-supplied with licorice wands, cauldron cakes, and Berty Bott's Every-Flavored Beans, Albus and Rose started up—what Albus thought was—a much more practical conversation.

"Well, obviously, you have a very good chance of becoming Seeker, Al," Rose told him while opening another packet of Berty Bott's and popping one in her mouth, without checking what it was. "Ew, tripe," she grimaced. "Anyways, you have two generations before you who were Seekers—the best, as far as I've heard." Al grinned proudly, thinking of his dad and James Potter, his brother's namesake. "And Aunt Ginny is a very good Quidditch player, as well. So, I think you'll be the best at tryouts," she told him matter-of-factly. "I've seen you fly."

At that moment, several people decided to poke their heads around the door.

"Oh, yes, I think you'll do excellently, Al," said the voice of Selena Thomas, as she flopped down next to Rose.

"I'll see you later, Selena," her older sister, Artemis, bid goodbye, flouncing off to find her friends once more.

Selena was the mirror image of her mother, her long, dirty-blonde hair falling to her waist, her ears dangling with what looked like miniature radishes.

After her, Dorian Longbottom flung himself into the seat beside Albus and grabbed a cauldron cake, stuffing it into his mouth greedily.

"All righ', Al?" he asked through his stuffed mouth.

"Okay—how about you?"

"Little scared," he admitted, swallowing and smiling with pudgy cheeks. "But my dad said it's not all so bad, and I have you guys, don't I?"

"Of course you do," Rose said kindly, breaking off her conversation with Selena to grin at Dorian. Rose and Selena had an interesting relationship. Selena was her best friend—besides Albus, who she counted both as a best friend and family—but they were total opposites. Both took after their mothers and Luna and Hermione were…you could say different, but that might have been an understatement. But no matter their differences, Rose put up with Selena's abnormalities and Selena put up with what she called Rose's "narrow-mindedness."

"We'll always be there for each other," Selena assured him, with an unusual amount of focus. All four of them had known each other since they were small children but Selena was easily the closest to Dorian. Their parents had formed a bond over their last couple years in school that had lasted through the years.

They filled up the remaining train ride with idle prattle and snacking. Selena read them a quiz from her grandfather's magazine, the Quibbler. Apparently, Albus should hiccup twice every time he heard the word "fortnight" and avoid freshwater plimpies. Rose's lucky color was lemon yellow, so long as it wasn't worn on the first of any month that rained. She had snorted so much at that one that she drew attention from outside the compartment.

"What was that noise?" a voice drawled, followed by a slender face that poked itself around the compartment door. "Oh, it's just a Weasley. I thought it was a hog—not that I was so far off."

The body of Scorpius Malfoy followed it.

"What do you want?" Albus asked rudely.

"Nothing particularly," he answered mildly, "but I would rather prefer that it didn't sound like a bunch of pigs were trampling through the train." He scrunched his nose at the hurriedly rising heap that was Dorian, who had fallen out of his chair at Rose's laughter. "I suppose the clunking sound was just Longbottom falling over again, though."

"Don't you talk about him that way!" Rose yelled, her brown hair frizzing out.

Scorpius clucked his tongue. "Now, now Weasley, don't be getting your hair in a tangle over that. I'm just having a little fun."

"Then go have fun elsewhere." Albus stood. His wand was poking out of his jean pocket.

He probably would have stayed taunting them, but Rose, who was still sitting, had her wand out too and, though less menacing, she certainly had more practice with a wand.

Scorpius squinted his blue eyes at her. "See you at school, mudblood," he snarled, and backed out.

Al sat down in a huff. "You should've hexed him, Rose—you should have!"

Rose patted her cousin's arm, in an effort to calm him down. "It's okay. He was just trying to get on all of our nerves. He couldn't have done anything, anyways—there was just one of him."

And that was odd. Didn't a Malfoy always have followers? Where were Scorpius's little puppets? "He called you a mudblood." She nodded. "You are not a mudblood! You're not even muggle-born! And, even if you were, you still wouldn't be a mudblood!"

He raged himself out and then they changed into their school robes, as Rose buried her nose in one of the textbooks.

By the time they pulled up to the station, night had fallen.

Out the window, Albus saw the gleaming castle, towers rising into the darkness, its glimmering reflection wavering in the lake. It was as still as glass, the night just as calm.

He had a feeling that Hogwarts was going to be very different from everything he had been suspecting.