2
The awe and wonder Al had experienced upon first seeing the castle from the lake was quickly overwhelmed by his anxieties over the sorting. This anxiety only continued to grow as the mass of first years slowly dwindled. Every time the hat shouted out a house name, Al's heart beat faster. He still hadn't really decided on his house. He hadn't answered the question of just how badly he wanted to stand out from the rest of his family.
Rose had, of course, been sorted into Gryffindor and had quickly joined the rest of their family. Even now, Al could feel their expectant eyes on him, willing him to be sorted into their house.
Al's thoughts were interrupted when the magically amplified voice of the diminutive Professor Flitwick called out, "Malfoy, Scorpius."
There was movement behind Al and he turned slightly to see the blond boy from the train slowly pushing his way through the crowd to get to the front. There were hushed whispers from all the students. The first years he passed gave Malfoy especially dirty looks, as if they were sitting in judgement of some great wrong he'd committed. Scorpius, for his part, gave them equally judgmental looks in return. It was as if he thought that his fellow first years were beneath him. When Malfoy finally got to the stool and the hat was placed on his head, the intelligent headwear nearly announced his house then and there, only to stop with the rip that served as its mouth halfway open.
Everyone had expected a quick sorting for the Malfoy heir, and an instant Slytherin. Instead what they got was a hatstall. For six minutes, the hat deliberated on where to put Malfoy, but to Al, it looked more like the two were arguing about it rather than the hat simply pondering long and hard.
The final decision was just as surprising as the length of the wait. When the hat called out "Ravenclaw!" the entire hall was stunned into silence. It was only once Scorpius had nearly reached the Ravenclaw table that his housemates remembered that they were supposed to clap for him. Al decided that the applause sounded rather less enthusiastic than previously and was probably done more to be polite than anything. The expressions of the other Ravenclaws as Scorpius took his seat at the far end of the table only served to confirm Al's suspicion.
"Potter, Albus."
Al started at the sound of his name and his attention snapped to the front of the hall where Professor Flitwick and the hat were waiting expectantly. Al swallowed and made his way to the front before sitting on the stool and waiting for the hat's decision.
"Very interesting," the hat remarked, its voice echoing through Al's skull. "You're rather like your father, Albus Potter. Well suited to both Gryffiindor and Slytherin, though less certain of what you want than he was."
What house should I be in then? Al thought to the hat with some trepidation. He was at once eager to be done with it and fearful of the result.
The answer the hat gave him though, surprised him and only served to raise Al's anxiety. "I think I'll let you decide that," it replied. "If you choose Gryffindor, you'll carry on your family's tradition, your peers will see you as another member of a great family, carrying on their legacy. If you choose Slytherin, they'll help you achieve greatness too, but it will be apart from your family."
But Slytherin—
"Yes," the hat interrupted, reading Al's thoughts before he could speak them aloud. "Slytherin, even after nearly two decades, still has not shed the stigma it acquired during the war. And it's not totally undeserved. Slytherins can teach you to be great, but they are ruthless, cold, and cunning as well."
Al found himself faced with the decision he had secretly hoped the hat would make for him. Should he do as was expected of him and become a Gryffindor and just another addition to the large brood of the great witches and wizards of the Potter-Weasley clan? Or should he break the mold? Should he seek greatness on his own in Slytherin, even if it meant people wouldn't like him for it?
"Well, Potter?" the hat pressed. "What will it be?"
At the hat's question, the thought sprang unbidden into Al's mind and before he knew it the hat's cry of "Slytherin!" had echoed off the stone walls of the Great Hall and through Al's skull like a hammer ringing a gong.
The hat was soon lifted from Al's head by Professor Flitwick's levitation charm and Al could see his fellow students again. He was greeted by a variety of expressions ranging from Scorpius Malfoy's mild intrigue to the wide-eyed disbelief of James's friends. What struck Al the most, however, was the deafening silence.