A/N: Hey readers! I'm very sorry for taking so long to update this chapter but hmm I was being rather lazy and I know that is no excuse but I was distracted by a couple (or ten) books in the meantime :) Anyways I have a couple of stuff to point out before you read this. Firstly: except my OCs and plot, all rights are to JKR, Secondly: this is obviously not coinciding with some of the stuff JKR have said on the next generation (as you'll find out by the end of this chapter), saying that it took a helluva lot of research on pinterest and tumblr for names, character traits, family trees blah blah blah (not complaining it was FUN to research just sayin' some charcters are a little adapted to fit in with my story plot and stuff- hope y'all don't mind). And thirdly (this is my last point I promise)- Would anyone like to be my beta? If so PM me... Hope you enjoy!

When we arrive in the entrance hall of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we are all jacked up with excitement and nervousness. The grand stone arches and flickering torches make the spacious entryway seem ginormous compared to our smaller, younger frames. Portraits of Wizards and witches chuckle fondly at our awed expressions and in return we gape at their ancient tapestries and mish-mash of portraits and landscapes embellishing the walls.A magnificent marble staircase rose in the centre of the hall spiralling into many different directions. Frequently the stairs seemed to rumble and then move to connect with one of the many other hallways and passageways located above. The ceiling was too high to make out which added to the enormity of the place. Hagrid told us to wait patiently until our guide comes to fetch us for the sorting and no one protests to the friendly yet towering man. On my left Albus is revelling in the splendour while also trying to dodge attention from our fellow peers. Some of them have already recognised him as the son of the famous Harry Potter- the Chosen One, the Daily Prophet likes to title him as- and with his scruffy mop of chocolate hair and emerald green eyes, it's hard not to notice. Besides him, Kat tries her best to help ward off the more outspoken of the group, particularly one Miss Polly Chapman with eyes as slitted as a snake's and a blabber mouth as loud and obnoxious as a foghorn. On my right is my blonde-haired cousin Louis who is fidgeting in his pocket with something. I sneak a glance at the mystery object but can only determine that it is something round and reflective.

Before I have chance to question him, the distinctive tapping of high heels on the gleaming marble floors arises from a hallway to the right of us. From that same hallway the voices of chattering, laughing people floats out to us. We hush and turn to face the stern looking face of Professor McGonagall clad in conservative navy blue robes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my black witch robes and audibly gulp at the oft-talked about professor. James had often told tales of her showing no mercy to new students and that apparently if you slipped up with the strict Headmistress her withering glare would literally cause magical flames to appear on your unsuspecting self. I knew such things must be codswallop (especially considering how naughty James could get sometimes) but it was rumours such as this which made me apprehensive when in proximity with the woman.

The witch in question, having arrived in front of us first years turns to Hagrid and asks: "Were there any problems?". Hagrid guffaws and shakes his head no, only pointing out the curly-haired brunette girl who'd toppled into the lake due to a curious event concerning a flying fish, long robes and an unfortunate lack of balance. The curly-haired girl smiles through her rat-tails, lowering her eyes bashfully when Professor McGonagall takes in her drenched robes. The professor cast a drying charm and nods in acknowledgement when the girl utters a squeaky "Thank you."

"Very well then, Hagrid. I shall take them from here." Rubeus Hagrid nods his shaggy head and lumbers into the passageway. No doubt joining the Head table in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall leads us to a chamber just off of the entrance hall to speak with us before we approach the Great Hall.

"Good evening, first years. My name is Professor McGonagall and I am the Headmistress here at Hogwarts. Before you approach your Sorting Ceremony, there are a few things I wish to address. You will each be sorted into one of four Houses; Gryffindor-" Albus's eyes glitter at mention of his brother's House name "-Slytherin-" a wry smirk unfurls on Scorpius' lips, "-Hufflepuff-" a couple of boys snort derisively at this, one of them being a tall boy with a strong jaw and bushy eyebrows. Professor McGonagall cuts him and his snickering cronies a sharp look "and Ravenclaw." she finishes. Kat perks up at mention of the studious house and I wonder whether she is craving the blue striped tie more than the other colours. "Each house has its merits and Noble History which you shall explore during your time here. Your house is very important as it acts as your family during your schooling career. You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitories and spend free time in your house common rooms. Each house has produced their fair share of Outstanding wizards and witches. While you are at Hogwarts your triumphs will earn you house points, whereas disobeyment of the rules will cause points to be deducted from you. At the end of the year, house points are counted and the one with the highest points will receive the honour of the House Cup." We all take a moment to absorb what she is telling us. I already knew most of this because of my mother and father's recounts of their time at Hogwarts but I understand it must be repeated for those who are Half-bloods, foreign or muggleborns. The scholarly witch's eyes roam the group of us, lingering on the bushy-browed boy and both of my cousins. I pray she can't sense my kitten Tinker who is curled up, asleep, in the inner pockets of my robe. Thankfully her gaze slides past me without comment and with a determined nod McGonagall leads us out of the chamber and into a hallway leading to two large wooden doors. Outside she checks with the snivelling caretaker whether the preparations have been set up. His nasal voice makes me uncharacteristically want to slap the crooked, cruel-looking man but fortunately the affirmation means we move swiftly past him and push past the doors to enter the spacious dining hall.

I gasp at the hundreds of candles floating in mid-air, illuminating four House tables crammed with students and the long table at the centre front occupied with the teachers of the Magical school. Above us the ceiling is bewitched, displaying a velvety black sky dotted with sparkling stars. Semi-transparent ghosts smile and twitter at us from the side lines, whereas students openly stare and gossip as they observe their potential new recruits. "Just like out of Hogwarts: A History," I comment aloud to Kat, who's openly admiring the view. Scorpius, somehow catching this comment, snorts and mutters something that suspiciously sounds like "Dork" under his breath. Professor McGonagall, after instructing us to get into a line, marches up to the centre of the Heads table where an old, crinkled leather hat sits on a wooden stool. The Great Hall hushes once we reach the hat and without any further pretense one particularly deep wrinkle opens itself wide and bursts into song;

"Many decades I've lived through,

Many a head I've seen.

For it is I,

So old and wise,

Set to sort aside you teens.

Which will it be,

Which house are you?

For only I should know.

I see inside to the deeper truth,

And there lo' behold.

Perhaps you shall dwell in Gryffindor,

The House of crimson and gold.

Their bravery and chivalry,

Is something very well-told.

Or maybe it is Ravenclaw,

With its blue and bronze ways,

The endless wit and intellect,

With to spend your passing days;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

With its yellow and black charm:

For therein work the kindest,

And warmest of all hearts.

And finally awaits Slytherin,

In its emerald and silver galore,

Which is best known for its cunning,

And ambition for much more.

Whichever house you await,

It is there you shall strive,

For my judgement (so old yet true)

Is always very wise!"

As the final notes of the Sorting Hat's booming song fade, the hall bursts into applause. Once this dies down, Professor McGonagall pulls out a long scroll and unrolls it slowly.

"When I call your name you are to sit on the stool and place the hat atop your head. It will shout out which House it decides to put you in and you shall make your way to your House table, each which will be identified via applause and quite obviously its House Colours." We nod at her instructions and I forcibly stop myself from shuffling my feet in anxiety. Don't be stupid, I chastise myself internally, You are a Weasley, of course you will end up in Gryffindor. My mental scorn is interrupted by the first student to be sorted into a house. There are roughly sixty of us first-years gathered here.

"Abott, Melissa." calls out Professor McGonagall.

The nervous girl whom I recognise as one of the blonde girls whispering about Scorpius on the lake, stumbles up to the stool and sits down on shaky legs. The hat barely touches her head before shouting: "HUFFLEPUFF!". The table on the far right erupt in cheers and the pixie-cut blonde blushes at their friendly welcome. She is lead to a seat next to my Uncle Percy's daughter; Molly Weasley. I feel a burst of pride at my older cousin for being so hospitable towards the scared first-year. Until I remember that I am also one of those bloody terrified first-years and return to feeling anxious over my own sorting. A curly black haired boy with grey eyes and a secretive smirk gets sorted into Slytherin after three whole minutes of introspection on the Sorting Hat's part. The table on the far left applauds and a few people shake hands with the first Slytherin first year. The next two people to approach the Sorting Hat- 'Lucas Briggs' and 'Tana Bronte'- both get sorted into Gryffindor, which also applauds raucously. Fred Weasley and James hoot and holler louder than the rest of the table much to the dismay of Victoire, who is seated next to them. Her lip-glossed lips scrunch into a wince at their volume and I stifle a grin at her discomfort. Serves her right for being such a prissy nag all the damn time.

"Kaitlyn Brooks" is next called upon and I squeeze her hand gently before she leaves and she shoots me a weak smile of thanks. I watch curiously as she perches on the edge of her seat and braces herself as she jams the hat firmly on her black curls. The Hat seems to hold a lengthy conversation with my new friend until it finally opens its gaping leather mouth to holler: "RAVENCLAW!" She hops off the stool, grinning and shoots Scorpius a haughty look which is replied with yet another cryptic look from the silver-eyed aristocrat. She skips over to her new house and joins her new ecstatic comrades. "Charlotte Delacour" also ends up in Ravenclaw, much to the surprise of her cousin Victoire. The second table to the left applauds politely and seats her next to Kat who offers up a polite smile. I watch detachedly as Robert and Matthew Finnigan both get sorted into Gryffindor and 'Daniel Fletchley' gets sorted into Ravenclaw. The curly haired brunette who's actually called 'Adelaide Jordan' is sorted into Slytherin much to the bemusement of the Hogwarts Professors and the ghosts, who recounted her father's (Lee Jordan) loathing of the green and silver house. She beams at her table however and looks proud of her chosen house. Some boy with the last name of Higgs is sorted into Slytherin. The tall, bushy-eyebrowed boy- who turns out to be 'Sebastian Krum', the son to the famous Bulgarian Quidditch Champion 'Viktor Krum'- is sorted into Gryffindor instantaneously. He swaggers to his table and I sneer at his arrogance and obnoxiousness. Even now, at age eleven, there are a few girls swooning at him and I am aghast at the catcalls he is receiving from some Gryffindor airheads. Two Longbottom children go to Hufflepuff with the third- a mousy brown haired girl named Alice- gets sorted into Ravenclaw. She looks queasy at all the attention and nearly faints as she scuttles to her table.

On "Malfoy Scorpius", the blonde boy besides me takes calm steps to the metaphoric podium and sits himself comfortably on the chair. Unlike his predecessors, Scorpius does not screw his eyes shut, take shallow breaths or fidget incessantly. Instead he sits as still as a statue as the Hat debates on his future with his clear eyes open and unwavering. He surveys the room as the minutes tick by and it feels like forever until the sorting hat finally speaks. It is particularly strange how the Hat seems unnerved after delving inside the boy's mind and this is most probably why the hat does not shout the House name into the baited silence, and instead whispers it, much to the duress of McGonagall and some other teachers.

"Slytherin." the hat mutters quietly and the Great Hall is too astonished to congratulate the young Malfoy boy who somehow took twelve whole minutes to sort. The wizard in question remains blank-faced as he strides towards his new house. Kieran Black is the first and only boy to stand up and clap for his Slytherin comrade. As he strides past me, Scorpius' grey gaze locks on me and I swear I see the corners of his mouth twitch as he passes me by. Not many of us remain now. A cocky sandy blonde boy named 'Everett McLaggen' gets sorted into Gryffindor.

"Moon… Nott…." both namesakes end up in Slytherin, whereas 'Maisie Parkinson' turns out to be a Hufflepuff. Jasmine Patil, a pretty indian girl with almond eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth, gets sorted into Gryffindor. And then finally it is Albus' turn.

After only a few seconds the bright-eyed Potter is sorted into 'Gryffindor' as everyone predicted from the Potter-Weasley clan. After an enthusiastic handshake from Nearly Headless Nick, my closest cousin is ushered by James to sit wedged between him and Fred. Albus sends me a thumbs-up and I appreciate the small gesture of encouragement. A few names later and 'Louis Weasley' is sorted into Ravenclaw. Louis isn't the first of us Weasley's to have been sorted into a house other than Gryffindor because last year Molly Weasley broke the tradition by being put into Hufflepuff, which she claims to love. However he is the first to go to Ravenclaw and for this he appears extra fidgety. His pocket wriggles as he makes his way around the hall and I have to practically drag my eyes and preoccupied away to catch the "Rose Weasley" being called from in front of me.

This is it, I think cautiously, the day I finally begin to re-live the life my parents shared before me. I take wobbling steps up to the stool, hoping against hope I don't trip and fall like I was renown for doing as a young child. With each step I count my breaths, centring my thoughts and trying to 'ground' my anxiety, which is rearing up like bile, scorching my throat and making the hundreds of faces blur and dim a little at the edges.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I sit down at long last and nearly collapse onto the wooden foundations. My fingernails dig into my palms and the pain also helps ground me. The hat is placed upon my head and the last thing I see before I shutter my eyes is the concerned face of Albus potter. Once my eyes are shut, the Hat begins to speak. It's cracked leathery voice appears in my mind as though spoken directly into my ear.

"Rose Weasley," the hat murmurs in my head "What a clever little witch you are." I say nothing.

"Yes, yes- very bright, just like your mother… But I also see stubbornness and fiery passion in you, much like your father." I almost slump in relief at this, knowing the Hat will put me in Gryffindor. To my shock its speech hasn't quite finished yet. "-you also are similar to the Molly Weasley girl before you with your protectiveness towards your friends and family." it adds. "But most of all, my dear, you are sarcastic and witty and cunning- like the sharp edge of a snake's tooth. I see all of your jealousy towards your 'perfect' cousin and I see how underneath your subtle and introspective demeanor you are much like the Malfoy boy. You crave adventure like it's a tangible thing- an exotic flavour or an unknown object- which it certainly is not, nor ever will be-" with slowly dawning horror, I understand what's about to be. The impossible, the total absolute illogical event which is about to befall me and twist my fate into such a different direction that I may as well be taking a U-turn. No, no, no! In a gentler voice the hat continues; "You may not understand my decision yet but eventually you will. Good luck, dear Rose, for you are going to-" the voice is now loud and broadcast for the final, domineering statement:

"SLYTHERIN!"