Title: Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One
Setting: Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018
Summary: Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.
Author's Note: This novel is set immediately after the epilogue in "Deathly Hollows," and follows Harry's middle child, Albus Potter, as he begins his first year at Hogwarts, as well as Teddy Lupin's first year as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This work will span all seven years of his time at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts, Class of 2024
Year One

Chapter One

Albus Potter stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express, longingly trying to get one last glance of his mother, father, and sister, as they stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, waving goodbye to the train.

He had been thinking a lot about the sorting ceremony recently–and the lingering possibility of not being sorted . It's not that he feared his parents would be angry, or even disappointed; he knew nothing like that, even if he was been sorted into Slytherin. He just had always hated it when his parents, his uncles, his grandparents, and even his brother all talked happily about their days in Gryffindor–and he had always wished that, when he went to Hogwarts, he would be able to see what all the fuss was about. But the prospect of being left out of that piece of his family's heritage–no, he wouldn't like that. Think Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat will put you there., he told himself, remembering the advice his father had given him just moments before.

"Do you want a chocolate frog?" asked his cousin, Rose Weasley, as she unearthed a small brown sack from the incredibly large trunk at her feet. It always surprised Albus how much girls–Rose, in particular–needed to pack all the time. But Rose, of course, he reasoned, was about as spoiled as they come; his uncle, Ron, had grown up poor, and wasn't about to deny his only daughter anything she wanted, especially now that Ron–a partner in Weasleys Wizard Wheezes–and Hermione–an influential barrister with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement–were quite well off.

Albus nodded at his cousin, and took one. "Who'd you get on the card?"

"My dad," his cousin answered with a grin. "He always gets so excited when he gets one with himself on it; I'll save it for him."

Albus took the card, looked at the beaming face of a younger Ron Weasley, and turned it over. Ronald Bilius Weasley, born March 1, 1980, is known for his help in the 1998 defeat of Lord Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, as well as being a co-founder of Dumbledore's Army in 1995. He is currently a co-owner of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, the lucrative joke-item manufacturer, and lives in London with his wife, Hermione Granger–to whom he has been married since 2001, and his two children, Rose and Hugo Weasley.

He handed the card back to Rose, and then unwrapped his own chocolate frog.

"Who's on your card?"

"Godric Gryffindor," Albus replied. He hoped that was a good sign.

"If you get Ptolemy, let me know," she said. "My dad still hasn't gotten one."

The door to their compartment swung open, and a boys, already dressed in Hogwarts robes, stood there. He was quite a bit taller than Albus, a bit thin but with broad shoulders, and with a head of neatly cropped sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He had a big grin on his face.

"Everywhere else is full," he said. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," Rose said. "I'm Rose Weasley, and this is my cousin, Albus Potter."

"I'm Oliver Wood, Jr.," said the boy. "My father's the keeper for Puddlemere United–and he was voted the Most Valuable Player but Quidditch Monthly. You must've heard of him. And my mother was Alicia Spinnet who, before she died, was the chaser for the Chudley Cannons. You must've heard of her, too."

Rose nodded a bit, and Albus said nothing; he simply stared at Wood, not quite knowing what to say; the only thing he knew is that he didn't like the boy. Albus had no patience for arrogant people; they reminded him of his brother, James.

"Are you first years?" Wood asked. When they nodded, he continued, "So am I. Where do you want to be sorted? I hope I'm a Gryffindor; both my parents were."

"Ours, too," Rose said.

"But," he said, still grinning, "I wouldn't mind being in Slytherin, because I hear they have the best Quidditch team. They've won the house cup for the last two years." His grin stayed static–if anything, it got wider. "But, I suppose, I could help the Gryffindor team; they sure need it." He looked at Albus. "Is your brother James Potter?"

Albus continued blankly staring at the newcomer–and, after a long pause, nodded slightly.

"He's the only good one on the team," Wood told him. "I've seen them play last year. Do you think you could put in a good word for me? I'd love to be his chaser."

"He's not even the captain."

"I know; McLaggen is–but James is the only third year on the team, so the captain will ask him his opinion on younger players. Could you tell him about me? I'm really good, you know; probably one of the best chasers ever."

Albus only shrugged, and pretended to be deeply enthralled in the Godric Gryffindor chocolate frog card.

-------------------------

Up a bit further on the train, in an empty car, Professor Teddy Lupin stared out the window, as the countryside flew by. He was eighteen–fresh out of Hogwarts, and set upon becoming the youngest Hogwarts professor in seventy-nine years. He nervously fumbled in his bag, searching for his textbooks and his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plan. He had read both of them about a thousand times–but he couldn't stop being nervous; he had the terrible image of himself standing up in front of a classroom full of students with nothing to say–or, worse, babbling aimlessly like a clone of Professor Binns.

He didn't notice the door slide open, and he was a bit startled when he saw the shadow of a woman come over him.

"Professor Delacour!" he gasped, when he saw the beautiful face of Professor Gabrielle Delacour, the twenty-nine year old potions mistress. He knew Gabrielle quite well–she had been his potions teacher for the last three years, and she was his girlfriend's aunt, after all. But Gabrielle, being just as close to Victoire's age than she was to Fleur's, meant that she was more than an aunt; she was more like a good friend.

"Teddy," Gabrielle said, as she sat down. "You can call me Gabrielle now. We're coworkers; I don't want any of that teacher-student formality anymore, understood?" When he nodded, she continued, "I thought you'd be nervous, so I brought you some sweets from the cart." She handed him a small brown bag, which Teddy took, a bit of a half-smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said. "And you're right; I am nervous."

"We've all been there," she told him. "You'll do fine, Teddy; you were at the top of your class last year, and do you really think that Charlie would have given you the position if she didn't think you were ready for it?"

"I don't know. I guess not. But what if Charlie is wrong?"

"He won't be," Gabrielle replied. "I know you'll do wonderful."

The door slid open again, and Professor Neville Longbottom, the Herbology professor, deputy headmaster, and head of Gryffindor House, stood there.

"I thought I saw you come in here," Neville said, sitting down to Gabrielle. "Well, I thought you were in the compartment back, but I accidentally walked in on a group of third year Hufflepuff girls changing." He grew red, as Gabrielle laughed and Teddy cracked a slight smile.

"The rest of the faculty says that Neville is the king of awkward situations," Gabrielle explained. "You'll learn that quickly." She looked to Neville, and mouthed, "He's nervous."

"Don't be nervous, Teddy," Neville said, as Gabrielle slowly shook her head at him. "Your first day can't be worse than mine."

"No? What happened?"

"We were in the Great Hall, and McGonagall–she was headmistress then, before Charlie Weasley–introduced me as the new Herbology professor, so I stood up–and then I slipped and face planted into a bowl of bread pudding."

His face went even redder, as both Teddy and Gabrielle began to laugh.

"See?" Gabrielle said. "Even if you have a bad day–it could always be worse. And everyone loves Neville. But, more importantly, you have us to help you out–and you have Victoire. She's only a sixth year; she'll be here for you, too."

Teddy smiled as his two coworkers, and assured himself that everything would be all right

-------------------------

The Hogwarts Express stopped, and the first years were corralled onto the fleet of boats at the edge of the lake. Albus looked in awe at the castle, which loomed powerfully overhead.

"I can't believe this is it," Rose whispered. "It looks so scary."

Albus grinned at her. "I think it looks incredible."

Rose, Albus, and Oliver stepped into the same boat, and joined by another boy that Rose and Albus knew all too well–Scorpius Malfoy. He was every bit his father's son; he was a handsome boy, with short blonde hair, a rather long, pointed face, and two piercing blue eyes–all coupled with the trusted Malfoy arrogance and the personality of a dementor.

"You want to be a Slytherin?" Oliver asked Scorpius. Scorpius nodded coolly. "That's cool. I wouldn't mind being a Slytherin, I guess, but my parents really want me to be a Gryffindor. You've probably heard of my dad, Oliver Wood? The Quidditch player?"

Albus, by this point, had mentally checked out of the conversation, instead opting to run his hand in the water alongside the boat, as he looked up, studying the castle on top of the hill. His heart was pounding quickly now, and he suddenly had the image of himself sharing a dingy, stone Slytherin bedroom with Scorpius and Oliver, while Rose and James and everyone in their families ran through the grounds proudly displaying their Gryffindor colors.

"Are you doing okay?" Rose asked quietly.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?"

"You'll do fine there," she said. "If that's where the put you, that's the best fit then, isn't it?"

"You're going to be in Gryffindor; I know it."

"I don't know," she said. "I'm not very brave."

"Me either."

Albus paused for a bit; Oliver was still talking, boasting, to a bored-looking Scorpius in the front of the boat. He turned to Rose. "I hope Oliver isn't in my house."

"Why not?" she asked. "He's not a bad guy–and he's cute, too." She giggled a bit–then abruptly stopped when Oliver turned around. After he went back to telling Scorpius his life story, Rose continued, "My wand is rosewood. I could be, too."

Albus smiled at her pun. "But, really, you like him?"

"I'm just kidding," Rose said. "But he's not a bad guy–maybe a little arrogant."

"That's an understatement."

The boats stopped, and Albus saw Professor Charlie Weasley, the headmaster of Hogwarts, standing proudly as they disembarked, his fiery red hair parted neatly underneath his black wizard's hat. "First years!" he called. "Follow me up to the castle."

They did as they were told–and they were led into a small chamber off the Great Hall. Albus could hear voices outside the door, a loud ruckus that seemed to echo in the cavernous hall. The other students were there already–and Albus hoped that they wouldn't be sorted in front of everyone; he could vividly imagine the look of disappointment on James's face when the hat shouted "Slytherin" for the world to hear, and Albus would have to go sit among all the shady characters he knew lived in that house. Maybe, he thought, he could leave if he got sorted into Slytherin; Beauxbatons didn't start until next week, and with his father's clout, maybe he could get a spot last minute. No, no–that wouldn't work. Albus simply bit his lip, and kept repeating, inside his head, the word, "Gryffindor."

The first years were led, single file and in alphabetical order, out into the Great Hall. Albus focused on nothing but the old hat, set casually on an old, three-legged stool, in the middle of the room, in front of the high table, where the professors sat.

Neville stood there next to the stool, eyeing the line of first years. He smiled when his eyes met Albus's, but Albus didn't smile back; he was far too focused on not being sorted into Slytherin.

"When I call your name," Neville said, "please step forward, sit on the stool, and put on the hat." He cleared his throat, pulled out a piece of parchment. "Ackerley, Amanda."

"Ravenclaw!"

"Bones, Lane."

"Gryffindor!"

"Carrow, Katherine."

"Gryffindor!"

And so on and so forth. Albus wasn't especially interested in anyone else; he was still muttering, "Gryffindor" to himself, and now he was looking at his older brother, who was smiling proudly, as he flirted with an attractive Gryffindor fifth year. Albus had decided long ago that, if he could be like anyone else, it would be James. Sure, Albus had inherited the same raven hair and good looks as James, and was the brains in the family–though James was by no means unintelligent–but James was so carefree, popular, suave, and athletic. Albus was none of those things; he freely admitted that he didn't have the athletic abilities of his mother, brother, or father, and he was high strung, neurotic, and quite shy in just about every situation. Yes–if he could be more like anyone, it would be James.

"MacDougal, Samuel."

"Slytherin!"

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

"Slytherin!"

Albus, once again, tuned out Neville's name-reading, and turned to the Slytherin table, where MacDougal and Malfoy had gone over. They didn't look like too bad of a bunch–better than Albus had expected–and he knew that, as a pure-blood, he wouldn't have trouble fitting in–but he knew, still, that he didn't want to be any place other than Gryffindor.

"Potter, Albus."

Albus almost missed his name–but he slowly stepped forward, picked up the hat, and sat down. The last thing he saw was his brother's brown eyes, fixed on him, and James's lips slowly mouthing, "Gryffindor."

"Not Slytherin?" the hat whispered to Albus. "That's the same thing I said to your father. He's right, you know; if you don't want to be a Slytherin, you shouldn't be a Slytherin. Hufflepuff? No, no, not right. Ravenclaw? Perhaps. You're an awfully smart boy, you know. You'd do well in Ravenclaw. No? Still no? All right, I guess that leaves only one choice.

"Gryffindor!"

Albus almost leapt up from his seat in excitement–but, knowing that he was in front of the school, he contained his emotion–though, of course, he was still smiling so widely it looked as if he had stuffed a coat hanger in his mouth, as he proudly marched to the Gryffindor table.

James stood up as Albus approached, hugged his younger brother, and ushered him to the seat next to him.

"I saved you a seat," James said, "right next to me. I knew you'd be a Gryffindor."

"But you spent the whole summer telling me I would be a Slytherin!"

"I was messing with you," James grinned. "What are older brothers for? You know no one wanted you in Gryffindor more than I did."

Albus looked up at his brother, still smiling. "Thanks."

James was no longer paying attention; he had gone back to flirting with the blonde Gryffindor on the other side of him, so Albus, too, turned to his other side, where a brown-haired first year, very Irish looking, sat, staring wide-eyed at the sorting ceremony.

"I'm Albus Potter," he said to the boy. The boy's eyes darted quickly to Albus, and he smiled.

"I'm Brendan Finnigan. I think our dads went to school together."

Albus opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly turned back to the ceremony, as Neville had said, "Weasley, Rose."

The hat sure was taking a long time with Rose–but she didn't seem at all concerned; she stood, a smile on her half-covered face, facing the Gryffindor table. The hat finally hollered, "Gryffindor!" and she stood up, and took her place at the table next to Murphy. The three of them continued to watch, as the very next name was, "Wood, Oliver."

The hat barely touched his head–his eyes hadn't even been covered–when it yelled, "Gryffindor!"

Oliver looked pretty proud of himself, as he sauntered over to the cheering Gryffindor table, a knowing smile on his face. He didn't waste any time; he grabbed a chair, and wedged it between James and Albus.

James turned to see the disruption, saw Oliver sitting there, and said, "Oh, hello."

"Hello," Oliver said. "I'm Oliver Wood, Jr. You've probably heard of my father…"

"Now that everyone's been sorted," Charlie shouted, as everyone quieted down, "I would like to take this time to introduce the staff." He motioned towards the professors sitting behind her at the high table.

"Professor Binns, History of Magic."

The ghost stood up, bowed his head, and sat back down.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures."

Hagrid, like Binns, stood up–but, a little tipsy off of the port wine from the enormous goblet in front of him–hiccupped once, giggled, and sat down.

Charlie looked back at Hagrid, then turned back to the crowd, looking a bit embarrassed–his ears, like everyone else in his family, turned a bit red–but he continued anyway. "Luna Lovegood, Divination and Head of Ravenclaw House; Neville Longbottom; Herbology, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmaster; Gabrielle Delacour, Potions; Justin Finch-Fletchley, Charms and Head of Hufflepuff House; Pansy Parkinson, Astronomy and Head of Slytherin House; and, a new addition to our staff, Teddy Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Teddy stood up, smiled, and bowed his head–amidst the catcalls and yelling that echoed from the older Gryffindor students–his former classmates.

"Thank you," Charlie said, "and may I be the first to welcome you all to Hogwarts for another wonderful year. And now–we eat."