Author's notes:
#1 This story is based on chapter "Nineteen Years Later" of DH. I ignored certain pieces of additional information (e.g. concerning Minerva McGonagall or the Defence Against the Dark Arts position) that Mrs Rowling gave in interviews. What is not in the books is not canon.
#2 Special thanks go to my kind and patient beta-reader duj, especially for her help with the Sorting Hat's song.
...
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Of Hats and Girls
- How the Same Old Hat Met a Girl Who Was Resolved to Make a Change -
...
Platform nine and three-quarters was obscured by thick, white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express.
Rose stood together with her younger brother Hugo and her parents alongside the very last carriage. She watched people emerge out of the mist and disappear into it again after only a few steps. She thought she'd seen James running past them but wasn't sure. It was hard to discern anybody who was more than a few yards away.
"Will they find us?" she asked for the third time.
"They will," her mother answered, her tone betraying just the slightest bit of impatience.
A familiar voice sounded from nearby, "I think that's them."
The dark shapes of four people drew nearer. Rose caught a glimpse of a man's glasses. The long, red hair of a woman came into focus. And there they were – Aunt Ginny, Uncle Harry, Albus and his little sister Lily.
Albus marched straight up to Rose to say hello to her.
She beamed at him. Finally, they were going to Hogwarts! She had read about the school, of course, but that was theory. The actual experience would surely be quite unique.
The adults discussed cars and driving licences again – a topic that had been dominating family conversations for the past six months. Rose didn't listen. She only tuned in when she suddenly heard her father say, "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure."
Rose didn't like the undertone in his voice. He had a habit of making such statements sound as if they were jokes but she suspected that they were none.
Her mother rebuked him, and everyone laughed – everyone except Albus and her. They exchanged looks. Her cousin seemed to feel equally uneasy.
Glancing back at her father, Rose caught him staring at another family – mother, father, and son – some way down the platform.
"Look who it is," he said softly, causing the others to look in the same direction.
The man, who wore a dark coat buttoned up to his throat, had noticed their stares. He nodded curtly to them and turned back to his wife and son.
"That's little Scorpius," her father told Rose. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie." He added something about her having inherited her mother's brains – one of his standard phrases. Occasionally, he replaced brains with looks or strong-mindedness.
"Ron, for heaven's sake," her mother said, half-stern, half-amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"
"You're right, sorry," her father hurried to say. Nonetheless, he went on, "Don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood."
This seemed to be a serious issue if Dad used Granddad Weasley to stress his point.
Rose tried to get another look at the boy she wasn't supposed to marry but the billowing clouds had swallowed him and his parents. Before she could ask what was wrong with them, James turned up. The news he brought wasn't exactly new to her. Victoire and Teddy had been going out for weeks.
While Albus stood too close to his father to strike up a private conversation with him, Rose raked her brain whether she'd heard the name Scorpius before. No recollection came. She was almost sure that the name was not among those who had been Death Eaters back in the war. They might be purebloods as her father had hinted, but being pureblood was, in her opinion, not a crime in itself.
"It's nearly eleven," Uncle Harry announced. "You'd better get on board."
The general bustle of last minute kissing and hugging set in. James made a fuss by downright refusing to give love from his parents to Professor Longbottom. Then, for no apparent reason, he aimed a kick at his younger brother and told him to watch out for Thestrals.
"I thought they were invisible?" Albus cried. "You said they were invisible!"
James merely laughed, and Rose found herself pulled into her mother's embrace.
"I'll write, Mum," she promised. Her voice sounded unnaturally thick. Now that the moment of parting had come, she felt anxious.
"I know you'll write. You'll do fine, Rosie," her mother reassured her. "Don't mind Dad's silly proclamations. We'll love you no matter which house you are in. Ravenclaw would be fine indeed. And even Hufflepuff-"
"I want a hug, too!" Hugo squealed, tugging at her new robes.
Rose bent down a little to comply.
Then her father seized her. His hug was rather a squeeze.
"Get going," he said awkwardly. "Or I'll start missing you right here and now in front of all the people."
She boarded the train, made for the next window, and pulled it down.
Her parents and Aunt Ginny waved to her. Hugo and Lily, bouncing with excitement, shouted their farewells. Uncle Harry had crouched down so that his face was nearly level with Albus's. They talked quietly – and judging by the solemn look on their faces – about grave matters.
For a moment, the white mist shifted to reveal a very similar scene less than fifty yards away. Mr Scorpius had crouched down, too, to talk to his son.
It was like watching a strange choreography, Rose thought. Both men, Uncle Harry and Mr Scorpius, rose simultaneously, gave their sons a gentle tap on the shoulder, helped them onto the train, and the mothers slammed the doors shut.
Albus made his way to Rose with difficulty. The corridor was crowded and everywhere up and down the train, students were hanging out of the windows, waving and shouting. A great number of them seemed to be gaping at Uncle Harry.
"Why are they all staring?" Albus demanded.
"Don't let it worry you. It's me," Rose's Dad joked. "I'm extremely famous."
There was laughter, both on the platform and on the train, as the heavy engine gathered momentum. Rose and Albus stood and waved until their families were small, indistinguishable dots.
...
They found an empty compartment. But, no sooner had they made themselves comfortable in the seats next to the window than three considerably older students came in. They hoisted their luggage into the racks without even glancing at Rose or Albus, got a deck of self-shuffling cards out, and began to play.
Albus became more pensive by the minute. Rose wasn't sure whether the rowdy boys with their shouts and laughs and absurd exclamations irked him.
"Are you going tell me what's on your mind?" she said. "Is it something to do with these Thestrals?"
Albus shook his head. "I've got to talk to James. See you later."
With that, he scampered off to find his brother.
The train hadn't even crossed the boundaries of London yet. Sighing, Rose took a book out of her bag.
The noise around her made reading difficult, though. Therefore, she looked up expectantly when the door opened again. To her discontent, it wasn't Albus coming back. The Scorpius boy stood there. He was slim, blonde, and had a heart-shaped face.
He cleared his throat. However, before he could utter a word, one of the older boys asked, "First-year, aren't you?"
Young Scorpius merely nodded. Without further ado, the older boy sized the newcomer's trunk and rammed it into the rack.
"There, you can sit with her," he said, pointing to Rose. "I reckon she's your age."
Rose plastered a polite expression onto her face while the boy sat down opposite her.
"Er... hi," he said, apparently ill at ease. "I'm Scorpius."
Rose glanced at him, wondering if she'd made a mistake and Scorpius was his given name.
"I'm Rose," she answered tentatively.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, somewhat stiffly. His half-hearted smile vanished as his burly neighbour roared with laughter because the deck had blown up in his companion's hands.
"Don't mind them," Rose said, unable to stop herself. "It's only Exploding Snap."
"Er... sure... right."
"Nervous?"
"No."
'Like hell, you aren't,' she thought. She felt bold enough to regard him openly for more than five seconds.
"Yes," he conceded, a pink hue appearing on his cheeks. "I'm nervous. Pretty nervous, in fact. Aren't you?"
"Well, it can't be too bad. Generations of witches and wizards have survived Hogwarts."
This time, he actually managed a smile. It was a weak one, probably more a sign of embarrassment than of cheerfulness.
"Have you already read some of the textbooks?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Oh, yes," she said, warming to the topic despite herself. "Do you think the new Potions book is better than the old one?"
"I've never seen the old edition. But my Dad says the new one is better than his book when he was in school."
She nodded. Her mother had said the same.
"Shall we read a bit?" she suggested in an attempt to keep this conversation short without appearing to be impolite. Her father's warning still kept her curiosity at bay. On the other hand, the question what made this boy unsuitable company for her had taken shape in her mind.
He peered at the paperback she was holding up to him, and frowned.
Remembering too late that she was brandishing a Muggle book, Rose said defensively, "My Mum gave it to me. She said it would be useful reading."
"Yes, sure," he murmured, rummaging in his shoulder bag. After a moment, he brought out a book that looked very similar. It was by the same author, but a different title.
"Oh, once we're through we-"
"We could swap once-"
They both stopped in mid-sentence and laughed. The ice was broken.
"I got it also from my Mum," Scorpius said, notably more confident than before. "She thought it might help to while away the long train ride. Dad quite agreed. He said reading was better than saying the wrong things to the wrong people right on my first day."
"Seems reasonable," Rose agreed. Her father said wrong things every so often. Her mother would correct him – sometimes sternly, sometimes nonchalantly. He either argued back or carried on as if nothing had happened. Her parents' behaviour could indeed be embarrassing at times...
Scorpius looked thoughtful. He reached into his bag again.
"Here, I've got another one. It wasn't too hard to persuade Dad although we don't have Astronomy in our first year. He's got a weak spot when it comes to buying me books."
The large, glossy book he held out had the constellation known as Orion printed on its front cover.
"But – that's a Muggle book, too," Rose said, surprised.
"No problem there – the stars are the same in both worlds. It's just that none of the pictures moves. But, then again, until a few weeks ago, I never saw..." he trailed off, as if worried that he'd gone too far.
"What happened a few weeks ago?" Rose asked, her curiosity now truly piqued.
"Never mind... There are lots of remarkable photographs in here, all taken by space probes. Do you want to have a closer look?"
He offered her the heavy hardback. She took it although she had the suspicion he only wished to distract her.
The volume was lavishly illustrated with coloured, yet still, photographs. In little boxes set aside, ancient myths were quoted. Some of them were clearly made-up stories, but some might contain a grain of truth. Her mother had told her that the wizarding world and the other one hadn't always been so strictly separated. There was the possibility that, two or maybe three thousand years ago, Muggles had known about the lives and deeds of wizards.
Slowly, she turned the pages, taking in the splendour of the pictures. Here and there, she read the contents of a box.
"Here's something about you," she said when she found a short passage about the eighth sign of the zodiac. "Or about your name, anyway."
Scorpius shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Dad claims having constellation names was a family tradition," he said, a sheepish grin on his face. He spoke in a low voice, and Rose had to lean in to hear him because their fellow travellers still made a lot of racket. "According to him, I have ancestors with names like Pollux or Sirius. A Great-aunt of mine, who is still alive, is called Andromeda. Though I've never met her."
"I know an Andromeda, too. She's a nice, elderly witch. My Aunt Ginny's husband is the godfather of her grandson. Aunt Ginny is the younger sister of my father."
"Sounds as if you were a large family."
"We certainly are," Rose answered. Rather than telling him more she asked, "What about you? Do you have siblings?"
"Yes, two sisters. Ursula turns nine in October and Cassiopeia is seven. We call her Cassie."
A tall, middle-aged witch arrived at the compartment door, cheerily advertising the merchandise she had on her trolley.
The three card players instantly started stockpiling rather than purchasing. They heaped such large amounts of confectioneries and cakes onto the one empty seat next to Rose they had to steady the dangerously teetering mountain with spells.
Rose, well aware of her grandparent's incessant lectures about the devastating effect of sweets on teeth, contented herself with a bag of Bertie Bott's Surprise Nuts and a Daily Prophet.
Scorpius followed her example and asked also for a newspaper.
"Well, dear, don't you want a bit of a treat?" the merry witch tempted him. "A couple of Chocolate Frogs? Or a Liquorice Wand?"
"Perhaps, one of these," he said slowly, pointing to the cauldron cakes.
"My pleasure! Pumpkin or strawberry filling?"
"Er... strawberry, please."
"Here you are, dear."
He paid with a Galleon and scrutinised the change for a whole minute. Rose was the only one who noticed. The witch had left for the next compartment, and the others attacked their stack of sugary food as if they had been starving for the whole summer.
Scorpius ate with an air of reverence. One could think it was the first cauldron cake of his life.
"Excuse me," Rose mumbled and picked up the Daily Prophet.
Aunt Ginny's report about the new Arithmancy teacher and the two Defence Against the Dark Arts assistants covered the middle pages. There were detailed biographies accompanied by nice photographs. Etienne Delacour had to be a relative of Aunt Fleur. He certainly looked it. Oleg Sagovorov from Durmstrang had a much gloomier appearance, but the text said that he had not only excelled in Advanced Defence Charms – a subject that was only taught at his school – but that he was also a brilliant chess player. Particularly the latter ignited Rose's interest. The passion for Wizard Chess was probably the one thing she had inherited from her father.
Rose skimmed through the part concerning the witch who was going to teach Arithmancy. She had a long history as a scientist and had worked for research institutions in several countries, including Egypt and Tibet.
Glancing over the edge of the paper, she saw Scorpius reading, too, and went on to an article about the latest Muggle attempt to catch the kelpie of Loch Ness and then, skipping the Quidditch reports, to another one about recent developments in wand-making. She read on until Albus returned.
Squeezing down next to Rose, he caused the older students to snatch away their last toffees. He glowered at Scorpius, who had put down his newspaper.
"Al, this is Scorpius. Scorpius, please meet my cousin Albus," Rose introduced them.
The boys shook hands, eyeing each other warily.
"Did you find your brother, then?" Rose asked to fight off the awkward silence that followed the introduction.
"Yeah, he just was too busy fooling around to talk to me properly," Albus replied. "And then I bumped into Marianne."
"And?"
"Well, you know her! She prattled on for an hour without pausing to breathe!"
"How does she do that?" Scorpius asked curiously. "Is there a spell that allows you to go without breathing?"
Albus twirled round and studied Scorpius's face for signs of joking. There were none.
"That was a figure of speech," he said very carefully. "I didn't mean that literally."
"Sorry..." Scorpius muttered, blushing slightly. "I thought... Er, never mind. I didn't mean to interrupt you."
"Good. And what about the Falmouth Falcons?" Albus launched a surprise attack. "Do you prefer them to the Montrose Magpies?"
Scorpius looked definitely gobsmacked while Rose was hard put to keep herself from giggling. She knew pretty well that Albus detested both teams. He liked, however, asking people off the wall questions where they thought they had a fifty-fifty chance in guessing. He didn't do it out of malevolence or to pick a fight – it was his idea of a joke.
Scorpius took a deep breath, then he asked quietly, "Is this important?"
Albus broke into a grin.
"Good answer," he said. "You're clever."
"To tell the truth, I haven't been much interested in Quidditch so far."
"Well, I suppose there are things that are more important than Quidditch. Some people may doubt that, though. I'm just glad they didn't make an exception for my brother and let him play in his first year. The bragging would have been unbearable."
"But they ask very rarely a first-year student to join a team, don't they?" Scorpius said.
Rose could sense the tension in him. Maybe he suffered from vertigo.
"As far as I know Al's Dad was the only one ever who was allowed to play in his first year," she said. "My Dad's told me the story approximately a hundred times. He himself got the position of the Keeper later on. Al's Dad was the Seeker."
"Mum played, too. She was a Chaser," Albus added. "What about your parents? Did they play in their time?"
"Not that I know. It has never been mentioned."
"Then, they didn't," Rose concluded. "Otherwise, they could never recount enough of their heroic saves and improbable catches at family gatherings."
Scorpius smiled faintly at the sarcasm.
"Seeing as Quidditch is not the most important thing in the world, may I change the topic?" he asked.
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"About an article in today's paper," Scorpius answered, gesturing to the Daily Prophet. "They introduce two assistants for one of the subjects that are compulsory for first-years, Defence Against the Dark Arts. But they don't say who the actual teacher is. Do you happen to know?"
"There is no actual teacher," Albus shrugged. "The job is jinxed."
"Jinxed?" Scorpius echoed, astounded.
"That's a long story," Rose said. "About half a century ago, the so-called Lord Voldemort put a curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position because he wanted the job and didn't get it. Nobody has been able to teach Defence for longer than a year ever since. There were even several deaths. In the end, no-one wanted the job anymore; I think you can see, why. Unfortunately, it didn't get any better after Voldemort was destroyed. The position still became vacant year after year. A team of professional curse breakers – our Uncle Bill was among them – tried to reverse the spell. When they failed, the ministry set up the current arrangement. The assistants, who are usually graduates from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, teach for only two terms – one of them from now till the Easter holidays, the other one starts in January and stays until summer. So, the curse can't do any damage to them. They leave before it sets to work."
"And ministry advisors come to Hogwarts once or twice a term for the written tests or to hold lectures on the more complicated matters," Albus added. "They take turns, too, and most of them are Aurors."
Scorpius looked genuinely impressed. "That's cunning," he said. "Since they can't break the curse, they circumvent it."
Albus nodded brightly. "Yeah, and Rose's Mum was the first to come up with that idea."
Rose frowned – not so much at Albus's remark but because of Scorpius. Something was wrong here. According to her father, he was a pureblood, which meant his mother had to be a witch and his father a wizard. Yet, he displayed hardly more than the knowledge of a Muggle-born – unless he was pretending. She decided to ask more directly.
"Scorpius, no offence, but you seem not to know much about the wizarding world. Haven't your parents told you anything?"
Scorpius's face clouded. After a moment's hesitation, he ventured, "Dad taught me Wizard Chess."
Albus practically jumped at the opportunity to discuss chess strategies. "Do you know the Ailier-Droit-opening?" he asked eagerly.
"I do," Scorpius said. "But exposing your castle this early is not always wise."
"Depends on how observant your opponent's chessmen are. You clearly gain an advantage once your pawn marches through."
"Sure, if anyone is stupid enough to let it happen..." Scorpius shook his head in disapproval. "The Montague-Knightley-opening is much more reliable."
"And much more old-fashioned," Albus pouted.
"Right," Rose joined in. "If only the same moves had been repeated for the last five centuries, Wizard Chess would be a pretty boring game. Why not try something new once in a while?"
"There's nothing against trying out new moves – provided they are sensible," Scorpius replied.
"My chessmen are right on top of my stuff," Albus said. "Can you get yours?"
"I guess so."
Scorpius rummaged around in his trunk for a while, muttering under his breath something about his mother helping him to pack up. Rose craned her neck but spied nothing more exciting than textbooks and neatly folded clothes.
"There," he said at last. "I knew we put them into the cauldron."
A little envious, Rose watched them play. Her own Wizard Chess set lay beneath all her other belongings because it had been among the first things she'd packed, and there was no point in playing with borrowed pieces.
Scorpius's plain, black chessmen contrasted very much with Albus's red and gold ones. The style of the two boys was just as different. Soon, they were stuck. Albus was no more able to sneak through Scorpius's defences than Scorpius succeeded in luring Albus into a trap. They considered their next moves for up to ten minutes while their pieces grumbled and scowled at each other.
It was certainly the oddest match Rose had ever seen. Hard as she tried, she couldn't spot an advantage for either side at any point of time. Neither boy looked likely to win, when one of the older students accidentally knocked the board over. The fallen chessmen, regardless of their colour, screamed in united anger. Albus and Scorpius were more bemused than annoyed.
"You'd better get going," the student who'd ruined the match grunted in not very apologetic tones. "We're five minutes away from Hogsmeade Station. – And put your robes on, firstie."
He nudged Albus roughly before he followed his companions into the rapidly filling corridor.
At the same time, a voice echoed through the train telling them that they were to leave their luggage behind because it would be taken to the school separately.
Rose helped Albus to get ready but they were among the last to step onto the small platform. It was already after sundown.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"
"There's Hagrid!"
The half-giant towered in the midst of a group of other first-years. Rose and Albus hurried over to him with Scorpius in their wake.
"Hi Albus, ev'ning Rose! What took ye so long?" Hagrid asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "C'mon now, firs'- years! The boats're waitin'."
They followed him, slipping and stumbling in the growing darkness, down a steep, narrow path. Most of the way, they had to walk in single file.
Finally, they reached the edge of troubled water. The wind had picked up and drove heavy clouds across the sky. Hogwarts, perched atop a mountain, could be seen on the far side of the lake. But the cold wind stung Rose's eyes and she looked away.
"They have no oars," Scorpius observed, pointing to the boats that were bobbing up and down on the waves. "How are they moved along?"
"By magic," Albus replied without hesitation.
"Sure, what else..." Scorpius muttered. Louder, he said, "By the way, the Ailier-Droit-opening hasn't won, yet. I don't accept defeat that easily, not just because some oaf sends the board fl-"
"Hey, mind what ye're sayin', boy!" Hagrid suddenly rumbled, scowling down at Scorpius. "I'm sure like hell goin' ter keep an eye on ye. Your sort-"
Several screams coming from one of the boats cut his inexplicable outburst short. A girl must have lost her footing and plummeted into the water. Hagrid hastened to her rescue, shouting, "What are ye doin'? No more'n twelve ter a boat!"
"This man is scary," Scorpius said under his breath. "And not only because of his size..."
"No, he's a nice bloke, really. A friend of my father," Albus told him. "I don't know what's irked him so much."
"Maybe it's the weather," Rose suggested.
The wind was about to become a storm. The clouds hung heavy and deep; the stars had gone.
"Yeah, this isn't going to be a joyous trip," Scorpius said sullenly.
"Can't you swim?" Albus asked.
"Under normal circumstances, I can. But with this attire?" He pulled at the front of his robes. "I saw carriages when we got off the train. Why can't we use them?"
"They're for the older students. First-years go by boat," Rose said. "It's tradition."
"Being traditional doesn't necessarily mean being good," Scorpius grumbled.
"Whining won't make matters any better," Albus said, trying to sound resolute. "Just let's go!"
Together, they clambered into the nearest boat but were separated by other students who pushed and shoved trying to get seats that weren't wet.
The ride was as rough as Rose had feared. She felt as if she was going to be sick any moment. The spray from the waves soaked through her robes. Halfway across the lake, rain started pouring down so heavily that everybody was wet to the skin within two minutes. When the rain redoubled its force, things got still worse. The amount of water that came from above along with the water that spilled in over the rim threatened to sink the boat. With no other means than their cupped hands, the children tried frantically to scoop out as much of it as they could.
Rose heard Hagrid's roars from afar but, with the wind, splattering rain, and shrieks around her, she didn't understand a single word. She had the horrible feeling that they had lost their bearing. Hogwarts wasn't ahead anymore, but clearly to their left.
Miraculously, they made it to the shore. A dozen wet, shivering figures scrambled out of every boat. Rose waded through the water until she could feel grass beneath her boots. She staggered onwards to where the many brightly-lit windows of the castle promised warmth and shelter. Tripping over a large stone or a protruding tree root, she fell on her knees. Someone pulled her up.
"You all right?" Scorpius asked.
He put his arm round her shoulders. It was a nice gesture, but helped nothing. He was as wet as she was.
"So cold..." was all she managed. Her teeth were clattering.
"Where's Albus?"
"Dun-no..."
Fear clutched suddenly at her heart. She hadn't seen or heard her cousin for quite some time...
As if he'd sensed her panic, Scorpius called loudly, "Albus?" and, when no answer came, again, "Albus?"
"Here!" sounded a voice out of the darkness.
Relief shot through Rose's veins. She felt better although the wind blew as sharp as before and the rain poured on.
Then, there was light. People carrying torches swarmed out from the school. Rose could hear Hagrid's bellows again, giving directions.
They were shepherded to the castle. A witch in soggy dress robes counted them as they trudged into a large Entrance Hall. Here, at last, Rose and Scorpius found Albus. He wasn't only wet but covered from tip to toe in clay.
"What happened?" asked Scorpius.
"Search me," Albus replied, trying to rub the mud away with muddy fingers.
"Listen, everybody!" the tripping-wet witch called. "As you are all safely here now, we will proceed with the Sorting immediately. I am Professor Jones and I will conduct the Ceremony. Please, follow me to the Great Hall!"
She led them to a pair of large double doors. While they marched behind her, another witch moved purposefully along with them. She swung her wand, muttering spells. The moment she passed Rose, the girl's clothes and hair became wonderfully dry.
"Wow!" exclaimed Albus, looking down his front. The dirt had gone, too.
Professor Jones, now also dry and neat, pulled the doors wide open and beckoned the first-years into a huge, splendidly adorned room. Thousands of candles were floating in mid-air above four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. A fifth table, the one for the teachers, stood at the top of the Great Hall. Professor Jones led them up there, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students.
Someone was singing.
"... shrewd Slytherin, kind Hufflepuff,
Those were two who know their stuff..."
A pointed wizard's hat, old, worn and smudged, sat on a nearby stool. It had a rip near the rim that looked like a mouth – and from there came the song.
"... brave Gryffindor, smart Ravenclaw
Were two of the best I ever saw.
So put me on and do not fear!
And I shall make your House quite clear.
It is as smooth as that
For I'm a Thinking Hat!"
There was applause all around as the Hat finished its song and bowed to each of the four tables.
Professor Jones stepped forward flourishing a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name," she said, smiling amiably, "you will put on the Sorting Hat. You may sit on the stool while it determines which house you will go to."
Rose glanced at the two boys beside her. Albus and Scorpius looked as apprehensive as she felt.
"Well, let us start," Professor Jones continued. "Abercrombie, Dustin!"
A plump boy went to her, put on the Hat, and sat down. For a minute or so, nothing happened. Then, the slit near the rim parted, shouting, "Gryffindor!"
The table farthest from the entrance cheered in welcome as Dustin went to sit down there. Someone patted him on the back. Several students shook his hand, probably introducing themselves.
"Ackerley, Persephone!"
A small, dark-haired girl strode forward. The Hat sent her to Ravenclaw, and she joined the table second from the left. She was welcomed just as warmly as Dustin had been.
The Sorting went on. Sixtus Bagnold was made a Hufflepuff and Linda Cresswell a Gryffindor. A couple of twins followed. Both became Ravenclaws. Nancy Donovan was Sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Which house are you going to be in?" Scorpius whispered to Rose.
"Well, you can't know beforehand," she whispered back.
"But you can!" A sturdy, hard-faced girl turned round to them. The line of first-years had somewhat dissolved into loose knots. "Everyone knows Hufflepuff is for the lazy and Gryffindor for the meddlesome fools, Ravenclaw's for nerds and Slytherin," she threw herself up haughtily, "is for pure-bloods."
"Oh, really," Rose replied, allowing her pent-up emotions to fuel irony, "Where do they put normal people, then?"
"Normally, you go where your parents have been," someone else suggested.
Unconvinced, Rose shook her head. "If everybody had simply to go to the house their parents were once in, Sorting would hardly be necessary anymore."
"Except for students with non-wizard parents," Scorpius said. "What about them?"
"Them?" The sturdy girl eyed him up and down. "Who cares?"
"Flint, Bathsheba!" Professor Jones called, and the girl marched away.
Her bottom had scarcely touched the stool when the Sorting Hat shouted, "Slytherin!"
Rose watched her swaggering to the table at the far right. The applause seemed thinner, and only now Rose noticed that the Slytherin table was less peopled than the other three. Nearly half of the seats were empty.
"I don't want to be in that house," Scorpius moaned, his voice barely audible.
"Then you don't have to be," Albus told him quietly. "My Dad says we can choose."
"We can choose?" Rose gasped.
Albus nodded solemnly, "Yes, Dad says so. At least, the Hat allowed him to choose."
"Well, then..." Scorpius face was taut with concentration. "Nerds, she said. That means the house for those who really want to apply themselves, right?"
"Guess so..." Rose mumbled. Her thoughts raced. Hadn't her mother once mentioned that the Hat had not wanted to put her in Gryffindor at first? Trying hard to remember the occasion and what exactly her mother had said, she lost track of the events around her until Scorpius's hoarse voice brought her back to the present.
"Keep your fingers crossed for me," he said and walked off.
Slightly dazed, she saw him sit down. The silence dragged on endlessly before the slit that served for the Hat's mouth opened.
"Ravenclaw!" it said.
Scorpius got up. He looked immensely relieved. Covertly, he gave her and Albus a thumbs-up.
Rose wasn't aware of the murmuring in the Hall and the somewhat subdued applause from the Ravenclaw table because Professor Jones called, "Potter, Albus!"
"Good luck!" she whispered as her cousin left her side.
Again, the Hat took its time. However, the decision came, by comparison, quicker.
"Ravenclaw!"
Albus jumped up, grinning.
It works, he mouthed soundlessly to Rose before he went to sit down next to Scorpius.
It worked.
What now?
Now that she knew she had a choice, what would she choose?
Hufflepuff didn't seem the best option because Marianne, Uncle Percy's sole daughter, was there. Having to endure her nonsensical chatter day after day was no alluring prospect. Slytherin was out of the question. That left Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. This morning on the platform, Mum had said Ravenclaw would be fine. Victoire and Angelique were there, and no one in the family, not even her father, had ever complained about that. On the other hand, all the boys were in Gryffindor. That meant James, too. Did she want to be in the same house as him? He was bright and plucky but also brimful of mischief. She wasn't as fond of him as she was of Albus. Albus was gentler, quieter, wittier and, of course, her age.
She glanced at the Ravenclaw table where Albus was whispering with Scorpius.
By now, very few first-years were still waiting. Timothey Warbeck went to Gryffindor and Florence Warrington to Slytherin.
Then, it was her turn.
When she walked to the stool she felt calmer than she'd ever expected. And yet, she felt more excited than she had thought. This wasn't an ancient piece of clothing – magical or not – going to pronounce a sentence upon her, no, this would be her making a choice. Since this was her life, she had a right to decide.
She lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head – it came down to her nose – and said softly, "I'd like to be in Ravenclaw please, Mr Sorting Hat."
"Indeed, would you?" said a small voice in her ear. "I seem to get a great number of requests for this house today. May I ask why you want to go there?"
"It's the house for those most eager to learn, isn't it?"
"One could it put this way, yes. But I see also valour in you, young Lady. You could well be in Gryffindor."
"But bravery without any knowledge can be rather foolish. Don't you think so?"
"Well reasoned for someone of your age. So be it – RAVENCLAW!"
Applause greeted her from the table she was hurrying to. A girl wearing a Prefect badge was the first to welcome her. Pointing and nodding, she introduced sundry other students to Rose while she walked her to the spot where the first-years were sitting. Rose smiled in everyone's direction and shook hands with Miranda Corner, a fourth-year who had been appointed her personal tutor for the next months.
"Well, see you around, Rose," the Prefect girl said. "Enjoy the feast!"
"It worked, it worked!" Rose beamed at Albus and Scorpius as they made room for her between them. "I said I wanted to be in Ravenclaw, and the Hat agreed!"
"That's nonsense," the Prefect, who was still lingering in the area, said. "The Sorting Hat is a powerful magical device. It sees right inside your head, assesses your abilities, and determines on that basis where you fit in best. You can't make demands. The Sorting doesn't work like that."
Rose and the boys exchanged doubtful looks.
"But, we did ask," Albus said slowly.
"The Hat sensed Ravenclaw qualities in you. That's all."
"So it is right we are here?" Scorpius asked, obviously worried.
"Of course, it is right," the Prefect girl assured him firmly. "Now excuse me. Dinner is about to start."
"She's wrong," Albus muttered after she had left. Reaching past Rose, he nudged Scorpius. "What do you say? Is she wrong?"
"Depends on what counts for Ravenclaw qualities," Scorpius answered. "I guess there's a lot we have to find out, Al."
Albus laughed. "You mean, a lot besides the most promising opening sequence in Wizard Chess?"
"Exactly," Scorpius said, grinning back.
This moment, the headmistress clapped her hands and the Great Hall instantaneously fell silent. Rose knew Professor McGonagall from some of the more important family gatherings. The last occasion she'd seen the stern, old teacher had been Granddad Weasley's seventieth birthday.
"A new year begins. I wish you all the courage and strength that it takes to master the challenges laying before you. Right now, however," Professor McGonagall clapped her hands again, and food appeared on the tables, "I would like to quote one of my predecessors, the renowned Albus Dumbledore. He used to utter words of great wisdom and kindness at this point of the banquet. These words were: Dig in!"
They dug in.
Rose heaped boiled potatoes, chicken wings, and a mixture of carrots and peas on her plate. Albus to her right seemed unable to decide between mutton, beef and pork and took a piece of each whereas Scorpius to her left was clearly determined to eat his way through every sort of vegetable that was on the table.
After a while, the remaining food vanished from the plates and was replaced with cakes and sweet pies, chocolates, ice cream of approximately fifty different flavours, and an assortment of fresh fruit.
Casual talk ensued. Opposite Rose, a boy spoke about his home country – vineyards, warm summers, and mountains so high nothing would grow in the upper regions. They were, according to him, bare rock if not covered with snow all year round. His accent was dreadful. Every 'th' came out either as a 'd' or else as an 's'. Nevertheless, he was a likeable fellow. His parents – both Muggles – had moved to London for work reasons a mere two years previously. His Hogwarts letter had been something of a shock for the family.
"But you do have a wand, Joseph, do you?" the girl sitting next to him – Persephone Ackerley if Rose recalled correctly – asked.
"Yes. It is of hairs of unicorn females and shuniper made."
He smiled happily. He seemed not to bother much with word order.
"Ah, I see – a juniper wand," Persephone said kindly. "Mine is birch with a core of Aethonan mane hair."
"Sounds like a rarity," Rose observed.
"Yeah, that's what they said in the shop," Persephone nodded. "What's yours?"
"Dragon heartstring and oak. Precisely nine inches," Rose answered. Buying this wand had been a lengthy affair. She'd tried at least thirty instruments of different design until one responded to her touch.
Persephone's curiosity wasn't yet satiated. She went on to question the others about their wands.
"Hawthorn wood and the core is unicorn hair," Scorpius said.
"You're kidding!" Albus exclaimed.
"Most certainly not!" Scorpius protested.
"Mine's the same!" Albus told him. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair. They might be different lengths, though. Mine is ten inches and a quarter."
"Nine and a half. – They said at Ollivander's the wand would choose the wizard and not the other way round. So, I guess our wands should notice if we accidentally picked up the wrong one."
"Perhaps not straight from the start," Rose butted in. "You will have to use your wands for a while so they get to know you. The wand learns from the wizard, and the wizard learns from the wand. I've read about this in Wands and Lore."
They had no opportunity to explore the subject further because Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet. She spoke at length about how all students had to apply themselves and reminded them that they had no business going into the Forbidden Forest. She introduced Professor Fractal, who looked considerably more portly than in the picture from the newspaper, and Oleg Sagovorov.
At last, the students were dismissed. Rose drifted along with the crowd. Near the pair of double-doors, James appeared out of nowhere, sized Albus by his robes, and pulled him aside.
"Now, Al, how did that happen?" he asked.
"How did what happen?"
"How did you happen to be Sorted into Ravenclaw?"
"Oh, that!" Albus said in mock surprise. "It's got do with how good you are at Wizard Chess."
"Indeed!" James exclaimed, struggling to put a frown onto his face.
There was no serious danger, Rose told herself. They were only teasing each other.
Waiting for her and Albus, Scorpius stood respectfully one and a half yards away in order not to listen in to what he probably considered a private conversation between close relatives. Some of the passing students stared at him – curiously or with ill-disguised contempt. There were also whispers. Rose caught single words like Azkaban, grandfather, and convicted criminal.
Then, someone said rather loudly, "'Course he's Lucius Malfoy's grandson. Just look at him!"
She saw Scorpius twitch for a second, and realisation struck. The Malfoys had been one of the most notorious Death Eater families! This was what her father had been going on about this morning... She wished he'd been a bit more precise.
Scorpius suddenly looked worried. He drew a step closer.
"Rose? What's wrong?" he asked.
Her thoughts must have been showing blatantly on her face
"Is it true?" she asked, trying to keep calm. "Lucius Malfoy is your grandfather?"
"He is, yes," Scorpius said, a note of pleading in his voice. "But I hardly ever see him."
"He's a convict and still on probation!" she said, miffed at her lack of caution.
"Yes, Dad told me that his father was in Azkaban for burglary. Rose, please-"
"Burglary?" Rose gasped, exasperated. "He was a Death Eater!"
"Yes, I know," Scorpius sighed. "He was a leading member of that gang. Dad told me when-"
"And your father was one, too!"
"Yes, Rose, I do know." His tone had changed from imploring to something else. "I can't help it. I wasn't there to stop him when he joined."
From one moment to the next, she found herself feeling completely stupid.
Scorpius had been born years after Voldemort's downfall. He wasn't more responsible for anything that had happened during the war than she could claim credit for what her parents had done.
She looked up and met a pair of extraordinary grey eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He raised a single eyebrow ever so slightly.
"I didn't mean to upset you," Rose went on. "I was just upset myself..."
"That was obvious," Scorpius said, now less agitated. "The truth is, Dad told me precious little. He hates talking about these... things. The topic came up when we were shopping for wands and textbooks and cauldrons and all the other stuff. But then, he bought me this marvellous set of talking chessmen, and I instantly forgot – or rather pushed aside – the bit of information I'd heard, believing it wouldn't matter much. After all, this war ended twenty years ago. But it seems I was wrong. I've noticed how some people glare at me."
Rose felt even more stupid. She'd been acting like her father – ranting on without thinking. Ashamed, she replayed the scene on the platform in her mind. Her Mum had told her father off for trying to sow the seeds of discord between her and Scorpius. Her parents often took opposite positions – bias versus open-mindedness, jumping to conclusions versus careful consideration. Perhaps it came with the job. Her father was an Auror; he had to make decisions on the spot. Errors might turn out lethal. Her mother, on the other hand, headed the General Equity Office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She had to ensure fairness and justice to everyone within the wizarding community – and beyond. Even house-elves had certain rights now.
How did she, Rose Weasley, ensure fair treatment for Scorpius Malfoy? He'd picked her up, earlier this evening, when she'd stumbled in the darkness... His grandfather serving seven years in Azkaban didn't make Scorpius a bad person. Her father's wish she might outshine the boy in tests didn't mean they couldn't get along with each other. They could have both, competition and friendship.
She held out her hand to him.
"Friends, Scorpius?"
He took it, looking astonished as well as elated.
"Ah, sucking up to the Auror offspring, are we, Malfoy? Clever move."
A huge, blonde boy, no doubt a seventh-year, was towering above them.
"Mind your own business," Rose told him, surprised by her own courage.
"Ah!" He poked a massive forefinger at her chest. "Will Daddy be pleased-"
But there was James. His wand was inches away from the big boy's face.
"Hands off my cousin, Yaxley," he said fiercely, "or else you spend the first night of the term in the hospital wing!"
"Ah, of course, James Potter has to get involved," the boy sneered. "Famous family of meddlers..."
He backed away, though, since he was faced not only with James but with half a dozen other boys and girls, holding wands. They were all James's age.
"Thanks," Scorpius said to James.
"That was about you?" James asked, puzzled. "How did you get on his list of harassable people?"
"He... er... called me an Auror offspring," Scorpius offered by way of explanation.
James broke into laughter.
"No," Rose corrected, "he called me an Auror offspring. You, he called clever. Clever for making friends with me. And I tell you what – he was right."
"For sure," James chuckled. "You want to watch out. Rosie is taking after her Mum."
"Thank you, James. I take this for a compliment," Rose said, pointedly. Much softer, she added, "And thanks for rescuing me."
James responded with a comical bow.
She couldn't help but smile at him.
...
Out in the Entrance Hall, Prefects were waiting. They gathered up the newcomers to escort them to their houses.
The Ravenclaw first-years were led away in small groups. Along with Rose, Albus and Scorpius went Joseph, Persephone and a dark-skinned girl who wore glasses.
Rose kept silent, trying to remember the way. The castle was a maze of intersecting corridors from which flights of stairs branched off in various directions. Eventually, they reached a steep spiral staircase. They climbed in tight, dizzying circles until they came to a wooden door that had neither handle nor keyhole.
"Now, pay attention!" the Prefect said as he touched a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
The beak of the eagle opened. Instead of a bird's call, a low, musical voice could be heard, "Which one of the four founders of Hogwarts – Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin – was the most magically skilled?"
"We don't use passwords in Ravenclaw tower," the Prefect explained. "You have to answer questions to enter our common room. If you don't know the answer, you'll have to wait for somebody who does. The best advice is to pay close attention during lessons because most questions are taken, at least for the first-years, from the latest topics. – Now, feel free to answer the question at hand."
"Rowena Ravenclaw!" Joseph said confidently.
Nothing happened.
"Helga Hufflepuff?" the dark girl hazarded.
The Prefect leaned back against the wall, folded his arms, and watched them quietly.
Rose was sure he knew the correct answer but wouldn't tell. This was their first test – right on the first night! Slightly panicky – it would be pretty embarrassing if the next group arrived and they still stood here like idiots – she tried to recall everything she'd ever read about the founders. Maybe, she'd find a clue...
"Can't be Slytherin, can he?" Persephone mused aloud. "So, there's only Go-"
"No, wait!" Albus cried. "This is a trick question!"
Scorpius's brows furrowed. "That meaning?"
"Remember how I asked you whether you preferred the Bigmouth Falcons to the Magpies? Remember what you said?"
"I sort of avoided a proper answer because my knowledge about Quidditch comes next to naught."
"Right! You refused to say which one was better. And that's the point here, too. Perhaps the founders were different in the way that they had different magical skills. But being different didn't make any of them better or worse than the others. They were peers."
"Well done," said the voice, and the door swung open.
They entered a wide, circular room. The high, domed ceiling was painted with stars, the floor carpeted. Half-moon shaped bookcases lined the walls beneath the many arched windows. Despite its size, the place was crowded with students. They were sitting around tables, chatting merrily, or lounging in armchairs, reading.
"You can explore our common room tomorrow," the Prefect dampened their enthusiasm. "Right now, it is time for bed. Your luggage has been brought to your rooms. Each dormitory has an adjacent bathroom so there is no need for wandering around at night times. Any questions?"
"Where are the dormitories?" Persephone asked.
"Boys to the left, girls to the right, please," the Prefect said, indicating two midnight-blue doors at either side of the large room. "Miss Wamankar, Mr Gerstlmeier, you're supposed to see our house teacher, Professor Flitwick, first. It won't take long."
Joseph and the dark-skinned girl followed him through a tapestry door; Persephone had already darted off. From a nearby armchair, a tall, handsome boy got up.
"Mr Malfoy?" he asked, looking down at Scorpius.
Scorpius swallowed, then nodded.
"I'm Harry Boot, your tutor," the boy said, extending his hand. "Come, I'll walk you to your room."
Rose held Albus back, when he wanted to follow.
"Do you think it will be all right?" she asked.
"Being in Ravenclaw? Dad said he'd love me even if I ended up in Slytherin. I guess Ravenclaw will be fine with him."
"I know Mum won't mind me being in Ravenclaw, either. But I didn't mean that. I meant Scorpius."
"He seems okay," Albus said with a shrug. Then, grinning wide and purposeful, he continued, "Yeah, I heard what your Dad said this morning. Don't worry, Rose, being in the same house as Scorpius doesn't put you under any obligation to marry him. Or has he already proposed to you?"
"Dolt," Rose giggled and punched him playfully. "You sound perfectly like James!"
"No, I'm not perfectly like him. I'm not in Gryffindor, for a start," he laughed. "See you at breakfast!"
He disappeared into the boys' quarters; Rose turned to the blue door on the right-hand side.
The hallway that stretched behind it seemed to have no bottom. The floor was so polished it mirrored the chandeliers above. Rose tentatively put a foot forward, almost afraid to sully the spotless surface.
She didn't have to walk far. Names were written on the doors that led off the hall, and hers she found on the third.
"Hi," she said, stepping into a room furnished in blue and white, "I'm Rose."
"Hi, I'm Pia."
"I'm Glynnis, hello there."
"Want the bed next to mine?" a stunted girl asked. She was bouncing up and down hers, already wearing pyjamas. "By the way, my name is Ireen Urquhart."
Rose didn't respond immediately. There had been many a day when either her mother or her father had come home from work complaining about someone of this surname.
"Any relations to the woman in the Ministry? Floo Network Office?" she asked.
"Pansy Urquhart?" The girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she's my aunt by marriage."
Rose sat down on the bed next to her; Ireen beamed.
Smiling back, Rose took a second to recap the events of the day. She'd survived a boat trip, had made friends with a Death Eater son, persuaded the Sorting Hat to put her into Ravenclaw, and eaten more for dinner than was healthy... She needed to send an owl home first thing tomorrow.
...
Five names were listed on the door of his dormitory: Aidan and Cedric Davies, Joseph Gerstlmeier, Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter.
Davies – the name rang a bell. Wasn't there a Roger Davies playing for the Monstrous Magpies? Oh well, he would perhaps have to stop calling them that...
He found his gloomy expectation confirmed straight away – two identical looking boys were busy pinning up large pictures showing last season's Magpie team in heated action.
"I take it you're no supporters of the Falcons," he said from the threshold.
"Of course not!" the twins answered in unison.
"Are you?" one of them snapped.
"Me?" Albus said casually. "No."
"What about you?" the other twin demanded of Scorpius, who was emptying his trunk.
"Are you referring to the Bigmouth Falcons?" Scorpius asked back.
The Davies boys fell backwards on their respective beds, laughing.
Ignoring them, Scorpius pointed to the bed on which a Daily Prophet was spread out. "Here, Al, I made a reservation on your behalf."
"Thanks," Albus said. "That was very thoughtful of you."
The compliment was sincere. This way, Joseph would be the one who had to face the glory of the Magpies every night whereas he could share the comfy alcove with Scorpius. He was sure they'd get along with each other just fine.
"You're welcome."
Albus handed the newspaper back and sat down.
"May I ask you something?" Scorpius said in a low voice.
"Sure."
"The bully down in the Hall... he said your family had a reputation for, well, getting involved."
"So what?" Albus said, suppressing a sigh. Up to now, Scorpius had appeared to be blissfully unaware of Albus's relationship with a certain Harry Potter, head of Auror Office and legendary Boy Who Lived. People who asked him about his father tended to start their next sentence with you must – you must live up to his good name, you must follow in his foot-steps, you must be proud of him. He wasn't proud of his father. He loved him.
"The article about the new teachers in today's Daily Prophet is signed G. Potter. I was wondering-"
"G. stands for Ginevra," Albus interrupted him, relief seeping into his voice. "She's my Mum. – And another thing, Scorpius. You want to be careful with rude remarks about Quidditch teams because you might really put your foot in if you happen to come across a fervent admirer."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Scorpius murmured, looking pensive.
Then, he turned back to his trunk. Methodically, he took out a woollen scarf, undergarments, sundry sweaters, a wad of written music, and a gleaming flute.
...
Some time later, the lights had been extinguished, Joseph was snoring gently, and the twins were whispering between themselves, Scorpius called softly to his bed-neighbour, "Al?"
"Yeah?"
"I was quite scared how things would go – the big school, all the strangers, the whole new life far away from home... I'm truly glad I found someone like you and your cousin who know their way around and... who are really nice."
- ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... - ... -
Author's note:
There are three sequels as well as one – as yet unfinished – prequel to this story.
The recommended reading order is as follows:
– Of Hats and Girls
– Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw? Ravenclaw!
– Of Boys and Spells
– Here is to Friendship
– Exile (WIP)