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Chapter 2: Scorpius Malfoy
As it turned out, there weren't any empty carriages – at least not as far as he could see – and he and Rose ended up trying to find one that only held minimal people, which became hard as it seemed most of the other students were trying to do the same. As he bumped into yet another student – his third – he wondered if he they should have at least reserved a compartment prior to waving goodbye, but he realized that it couldn't be helped at this point. Besides, as luck would have it, they ended up eventually finding a vacant compartment, the occupants of which having stood up and offered it as they wandered around in a lost fashion, citing that they were planning on sitting with some other friends anyway.
Smiling, Albus thanked them politely, and five minutes later he and Rose were seated comfortably, staring at each other mutely before Rose finally broke the silence, her eyes lighting up even further, if humanly possible.
"Oh my God, Al, we're finally going to Hogwarts!" she burst out, and before Albus knew it he had collapsed over his seat, laughing harshly with her, dark hair covering his eyes as he listened to the sound of his cousin rolling off her seat and onto the floor. Outside in the hallway, a group of older students laughed at the site, but they waved when Albus blinked at them, one of them – a blonde girl with a crest he recognized as Ravenclaw on her robes – even winking lightly at him before vanishing along with her friends. Swallowing the rest of his laughter, the Potter reached up to clear his face of the view-obstructing hair before looking down at his clothes, grinning sheepishly. "I'm going to go change, Rose," he told his cousin, grabbing said attire from the small bag his dad had said to bring with him. Rose, who had climbed back onto the seat, gave him a light smile. Of course she was already wearing hers, as her mother had suggested.
"I'll guard the car," she told him, and Albus nodded gratefully before opening the door, vanishing down the corridor himself.
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Fifteen minutes later Albus found himself wandering down the corridor again, tugging at the unfamiliar robes adorning his person. They felt strange to him now, even though he had tried them on countless times before, back in Diagon Alley as well as several times at home to show his family, as instructed. He didn't really know what it was, though – perhaps it was just his nerves again. It was possible, after all.
Righting himself, Albus glanced into various compartments as he passed them, seeing students laughing and joking amongst each other, their faces alight with mirth. Most of them seemed older, like they were returning to the school, but some of them he knew must be first years like himself simply from their expressions and the way they sat in their stage, their bodies craning as if they could see everything. Some of them were even glued to their windows, watching as the golden countryside flew passed them, while others chatted animatedly amongst themselves, and he knew that if he could have heard their tones would have been ones of excitement.
When he arrived at his destination Rose was waiting for him, the nervous expression leaving her eyes immediately upon his return.
"Hey, Al," she greeted lightly. "So I was just thinking about the other students here," she went on before he could respond, "and about how many first years like us were here, you know? I mean, how many are there on average, do you think? And what if I get sorted into Hufflepuff?"
"Rose, I don't think – "
" – and what if I'm the only first year girl in my house? I'll be rooming with myself for seven years, Al! What if? What if I am the only one? Did you know that Uncle Percy and Oliver Wood were the only first year Gryffindors in their year? It could happen. It's happened before! I don't – "
"Rose," Albus said, placing a hand on his cousin's arm, "you be fine. You'll get sorted into Gryffindor, and… and I'll be there with you, so even if we are the only ones…"
"Yeah, but you're a guy," Rose murmured, but she ceased her rambling, and Albus leaned back into his seat with a small sigh, focusing his attention on the landscape as it raced passed him, the emerald of the trees turning into more golden brown fields and then blending in seamlessly with yet more trees.
He didn't know how long it had been before he heard a knock at the door of his compartment, and Rose was already up saying "Yes, yes!" to the trolley lady and handing her a couple coins, returning to the compartment with two Chocolate Frogs, a couple Pumpkin Pastries, some gummy-looking worms and a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"They really do mean every flavour, Al," she said in wonder as she opened her chocolate frog, grinning as a card depicting a wizard called Paracelsus fell out, something she picked up immediately.
"He discovered Parseltongue, you know," she chattered excitedly, and Albus smiled once.
"Oi, don't let it escape!" he said, referring to the Chocolate Frog itself, which tried to make a leap for the window and escape much like his father had said his first one had done. Thankfully, their window was closed, and instead of leaping after it Rose pulled out her wand – "10 inch, flexible, cedar with a unicorn hair core!" – and aimed it carefully, whispering a spell and holding her breath as the frog fell off the window into her lap, much to her delight.
"Look, Al! I did it! I – "
"Excuse me, but would you mind if I sat here?"
The new voice startled both Albus and Rose, who broke off her triumphant exclamations to face their newcomer, her eyes widening as she saw who stood in the doorway of her compartment.
Throughout his life Albus had heard many stories pertaining to the Malfoys, especially Draco Malfoy in particular, whom his father had once said greatly prided himself on his image, which he said had "cost him a lot in the end, but I do not blame him anymore, Al, and neither should you and James – no matter what you read." He had heard from Uncle Ron how Mr. Malfoy had been a prick who lied all the time and was a general git, and he had heard many more things besides that, but this was hardly how he had expected a Malfoy to act from his uncle's stories.
For one, Scorpius Malfoy looked nervous. His eyes and head were both averted lightly, looking down at an angle, and his hands were too tense on the frame of the stage door. Up close, Albus could see that, while he looked like his father said Draco Malfoy had once looked, his chin wasn't as pointy as he had first thought.
"… Malfoy?" Albus heard Rose say tentatively, as if to confirm whom this boy was, and she was rewarded with a curt nod.
"All the other compartments were full," Malfoy said, and his tone was low. He still refused to look straight at them, and before he knew it Albus had told him yes, watching as the boy all but glided in, his poise perfect even if his eyes – a grey-silver – betrayed his tension.
For the next twenty minutes it was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over everyone's head, rendering their clothes clammy and uncomfortable and resulting in much squirming and general discomfort. Rose and Albus ate a couple of the beans, occasionally making a face or some sort of remark on the flavour, but otherwise they said nothing, consciously aware of Malfoy – Scorpius Malfoy, whose family they had heard stories about both from family members and the Daily Prophet. Occasionally they would ask him a question to which they would receive a short, detached response, but little else. Even when Albus tried – albeit feeling nervous himself – to catch the boy's eye, Malfoy determinedly kept his eyes on the window and what lay outside, and his body remained tense, as if he was expecting someone to burst through the door and cast one of the Unforgivables on them.
Eventually it proved too much for Rose, who stood and gave them both shaky smiles before declaring she was going to try and see if she could find anyone else she knew – their cousins Molly and Lucy were supposed to be somewhere around here, this being their second year of Hogwarts – and Albus suddenly found himself alone with the other boy, and pretty soon the silence became too much to bear.
"You're Scorpius Malfoy, right?" he said carefully, watching as the other boy all but jumped, evidentially surprised at the question.
"Yes," he replied as if saying, who else could it be? Albus felt his face flush slightly, but he continued on, suddenly determined to get the boy to talk. "I'm Albus. Albus Potter," he said, holding out his hand, which Malfoy seemed to eye critically before slowly extending his hand, grasping Albus', their skin contrast obvious.
"I know who you are," Malfoy said then. "My dad pointed you out on the platform and I knew your names before that."
Albus swallowed lightly. "… Oh, I see."
Malfoy gave another curt nod, returning his attention to the window.
"My brother's in Gryffindor," Albus suddenly blurted, not quite sure why he wanted to continue a conversation that was obviously going nowhere. By the look of irritation Malfoy gave him, it was clear the blonde didn't know either. Still, Albus managed to catch a hint of wariness and surprise in his expression, and it prompted him to continue. "He said he knew he would be sorted into Gryffindor – that the Potters were a strictly Gryffindor family or whatever, and how the Weasleys have been in Gryffindor for generations. He said that that's how the hat works – some families are just meant to be in some houses."
"The Sorting Hat uses magic to determine which House a specific student would work well in," Malfoy said shortly. "It can also read minds, or so I heard, so be careful what you think." He gave a small smirk then, and Albus felt slightly less awkward upon seeing it.
"I know," he returned, "but don't you think it's a little odd how some families can be in one house for generations?"
Malfoy seemed to consider this for a moment. "I suppose," he said at last, "but that doesn't work. Harry Potter's - your father's godfather, Sirius Black, was a pure-blood whose family had been sorted into Slytherin for years, and he got sorted into Gryffindor. Maybe some homes just raise their children to have certain embedded traits or ambitions."
Albus blinked, missing the last part of Malfoy's statement. He had heard his father speak very fondly of his godfather, and he had been told this story, and he felt his face heat up as he wondered how it could have slipped his mind. He was so focused on this that he failed to comment on the awkward way Malfoy had said his father's name, as if he wasn't sure he should be saying it at all.
"Yeah," Albus said at last, and was treated to a raised eyebrow from the other boy, and for a moment he wondered how someone so young could even do that properly, or even have found reason to.
"Sorry," Malfoy muttered then, before wincing once. When Albus tried to ask after him he was met with a stony silence.
"Do you think you'll be in Slytherin, then?" Albus asked tentatively, gauging the other boy's reaction to the question.
"Yes," Malfoy said flatly, glancing at him once again. "My family's always been in Slytherin. It's the only House that might not…" he broke of determinedly, setting his jaw as if it could prevent him from saying anything else.
"Might not…?" Albus said carefully, as if he were treading on very thin ice, and Malfoy's response made him wish he hadn't asked at all.
"It's nothing you have to worry about," Malfoy sneered lightly. "You're the son of the Boy-Who-Lived – the Saviour of the Wizarding World!"
Albus recoiled at the venom in Malfoy's tone, and before he knew it his eyes were narrowing like they did when he thought James was being particularly unreasonable. "Excuse me for asking," he snapped, eyes sparking lightly, something Malfoy responded to with a set of stone-like silver eyes. "And my dad has nothing to do with this!" The two boys glared at each other for a few more seconds, Malfoy looking like a snake coiled to strike and Albus with his mouth full of malicious words he would like nothing more than to spit out at that moment.
He had never liked being reminded of his father's status, just as Harry Potter himself didn't like it. James did, he knew, thinking it was the coolest thing in the world, but Albus had always been uncomfortable with the fact that his father – his father, the one who used to read him bedtime stories and tuck him in at night – had been the one to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, and he had also been uncomfortable with the amount of people that were constantly expressing their gratitude even nineteen years later. It never served to make him feel uncomfortable, but even then he could never stand anyone speaking about his father with anything but the respect Albus knew he deserved. So when Malfoy had said that, he…
"Sorry." All the anger abruptly left Albus as Malfoy sat back down, his expression sullen.
"Sorry?" Albus blinked.
"What are you, deaf?" Malfoy snapped, and Albus felt himself thinking that he liked it much better when the boy was quiet. "I said I was sorry," Malfoy continued, "and I'm not going to say it again."
Albus slumped back into his own seat, blinking in an owlish fashion. "You're… sorry," he repeated, only to be rewarded with a fierce glare from Malfoy. "… Why?"
Malfoy snorted, making Albus feel all of five, and he adjusted his robes in a needlessly dramatic fashion before releasing an annoyed sigh. "It really doesn't matter, does it? I've apologized, so let's drop it."
"It just seemed a little… unprovoked." Uncle Ron said that Malfoy Sr. had never apologized for anything.
Malfoy glared at him again, falling silent for so long that Albus began to let his mind wander again, only to have it pulled back as Malfoy spoke again, this time in a slightly subdued tone that surprised the younger Potter boy.
"I'm not supposed to… I'm not supposed to get angry with you," the blonde said at last, tugging at the end of his robe. Almost absently Albus noticed two rings on his finger, both either silver or white-gold, one bearing an intricate design while the other bore a crest he could only assume belonged to the Malfoy family. "Even if you are being a right git." Albus jerked up at this, eyes widening incredulously.
"Excuse me? You were the one… sneering, Malfoy! And saying things about my dad!"
"Very articulate, Potter," Malfoy sneered again, dropping his sleeve rather abruptly. "Did you notice that all by yourself? And I only stated what he was."
"No, I – and you – " Albus began hotly, but before he could let his anger take him any further he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves – a technique he used when James was being particularly testy. "Look, I don't…. I don't want to fight with you," he said at last, through clenched teeth. "My dad doesn't want me to fight with you, either. And I don't…" he gritted his teeth, "I don't want you to call me Potter. I don't like how you say it, and that's what adults call my dad all the time. My name is Albus Severus, so call me Albus, okay Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked surprised again, his eyes narrowing shrewdly as he considered this. "… Fine then. I am Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, and you will call me Scorpius, not Malfoy. And no ridiculous nicknames either." The way the boy said it, as if it was an honour to call him such, made Albus smile despite himself, something that made Malfoy – no, Scorpius – stare at him for several more minutes before coughing abruptly and dropping his eyes.
"All right then, Scorpius," Albus said, trying out the rather odd name. Scorpius watched him for two seconds before nodding curtly, as if to confirm the pronunciation. "Why doesn't your dad want you to fight with me? From what Uncle Ron's told me…" he choked back the rest of his sentence, ears flaming as Scorpius' eyes narrowed, his mouth curving into a small sneer.
"Why doesn't yours?" the ornery boy shot back, looking tense again.
"Because he doesn't want me starting a blood feud; because he wants me to be better than that; because he doesn't want me to spend my whole school year fighting with someone who did nothing to me," Albus said flatly, and was rewarded with a stunned look from the other boy. "My dad says that 'the past is the past' and it's stupid to blame someone who wasn't even born then for it - someone not directly affected going after someone else who wasn't."
"… I see."
"What's your reason?"
"Much the same, I imagine," Scorpius said sullenly, and Albus knew he'd have to contend himself with that as the blonde didn't look like he wanted to say much else. "I had forgotten that you were related to the…. Weasleys." Albus wanted to bristle at the tone Scorpius took, but he forced himself instead to relax, letting it slide.
After fifteen minutes of silence – a silence only slightly more comfortable than the last – Scorpius broke the silence, much to Albus' astonishment.
"Why did you offer me your hand?" Scorpius asked shrewdly. Albus shrugged.
"Isn't that what people do?"
Scorpius frowned, as if thinking, but he seemed to accept that answer, withdrawing again only to ask another question several minutes later.
"What House do you think you'll get sorted into?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the window. Albus frowned, opening his chocolate frog.
"I don't know," he said, something that seemed to surprise the other boy, if the way Scorpius glanced sharply at him seemed to say.
"Why not?" Scorpius snapped, the urgency in his tone clear. "Won't you be sorted into Gryffindor like… like everyone else in your family?"
"I don't know," Albus said simply. "Maybe… I hope so. I know people there, y'know? It's familiar, and I… why am I having this conversation with you?" he suddenly asked. After all, he'd known Scorpius for barely two hours, and had only learned of his name today.
"Because I asked and you are bound by familial Gryffindor honour to be truthful and tell me," Scorpius said flatly, and before Albus knew it he was laughing, dropping his half-open chocolate frog to the floor as he reached up to cover his mouth, seeing Scorpius' shocked expression.
"… Are you finished?" Scorpius asked a few moments later, his mouth still hanging open slightly. Albus nodded, eyes still reflecting his mirth.
"I'm sorry, it's just… you're kind of funny," he offered, to which Scorpius responded with a slightly hesitant raised eyebrow of his own. He sobered up instantly when he considered the other boy's question though. It wasn't that he was used to unburdening himself on strangers, but rather he wasn't used to anyone besides his father and occasionally Rose even asking.
"It's just… I'm worried I'll get sorted into Slytherin," he said at last. "My brother – umm, James – had been teasing me about it recently, and I… it's just, what if I am? What if I'm the first Potter or Weasley in years to be sorted into Slytherin? What if they hate me?"
Scorpius watched him for a few seconds, and Albus couldn't be sure what his reaction was.
"… Would Slytherin really be so bad?" Scorpius asked after a moment. "I mean… my mum and dad were both from Slytherin, and they liked it, even if…" he bit his lip, "even if things got… complicated. Mum was always fond of it, though."
"But what if James teases me?" Albus asked frantically. "What if my parents were lying when they said – "
"I don't need to know what they said," Scorpius said harshly, "I can tell. And if they meant it – parents don't generally lie to their kids about that, especially when that parent is the Chosen One… umm, Harry Potter – then you will have nothing to worry about anyway."
"How can you be so sure you'll be sorted into Slytherin?" Albus asked after a moment, and Scorpius paled even further, if that was at all possible.
"I just will be," he said sharply. "And… I wouldn't mind if you were, too. A… familiar face."
Albus looked at him incredulously, wondering what on Earth Scorpius would say something like that; however, it was at that moment that Rose Weasley returned to the compartment, sporting another handful of treats, and Albus bent down to retrieve the fallen Chocolate Frog instead of responding to the blonde boy's comment, saying nothing when a card reading Harry Potter fell into the open palm of his hand.
End chapter.
