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Disclaimer: This world and these characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own is the plot.
Lily leaned back against the wall as she reviewed the plan with Morgan and Lorcan. The fact that they'd been sorted into Slytherin had been an impossibly lucky occurrence for Legacy. After the incident in the Shrieking Shack the previous year, it had been agreed that they needed to find out more about the Riddlers' plans.
There was a secret room in the Slytherin common room where the Riddlers generally met, at least according to Lucy's friend, Holly Charlotte. None of the four Slytherin Legacy members were allowed into that room.
As first years, however. . .
"Let's go," Lily said confidently, and she closed her eyes briefly and concentrated on the feeling she got when she was in pensieve, watching Sirius Black fall into the veil. . . seeing Dobby die to save her father. . . looking at Remus and Tonks's dead bodies, their hands spread inches away from touching. . . Uncle Ron bent over Fred's dead body, George's ashen face staring. . . Aunt Hermione erasing her parents' memories of her to protect them. . .
She felt a tear slide down her cheek and her eyes flew open, one last memory lingering – the sound of her grandmother and namesake's screams and the last stand of her grandfather, James.
As the tears came, Lily started sniffling. Turning to find that Morgan's eyes were bloodshot and Lorcan looked miserable, she hurriedly muttered the password and rushed into the common room. She pretended to run blindly, hurling herself into the wall near the fireplace where a tiny carved snake was visible.
The others followed, and the stumbled into a room with around twenty students or so. Every one of them froze when the three first years came hurtling in, and a burly seventh year girl approached, eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing in here?" she snarled.
"I- I'm sorry," Lily stammered, pretending to discreetly wipe her tears away so as not to appear weak. "I just – my family hates me!"
"Well, you're a sniveling little first year brat. It's not hard to see why," the girl snapped, drawing back.
"Give it a rest, Bulstrode," a boy called. He arched an eye at Lily. "Why do they hate you?"
"Because," Lily said, "for generations, my family has been in Gryffindor. There's never been anyone not in that House, and now I've gone and gotten myself sorted here! I hate them! I hate them all, and that stupid house!"
"Don't we all," the boy muttered under his breath. He eyed her critically. "Blood status?"
"Pureblood," Lorcan confirmed. "All of our parents were witches and wizards." Just like the rest of the Riddlers, of course. There weren't enough pureblood families to be like the Malfoys, perhaps, or the Parkinsons, but none of them were Muggle-born, or even half-blood.
"Hold on, Devienne," another girl suddenly said. "I recognize that one – that's Lily Potter."
"We're going to get back at them," Morgan spoke up, ignoring the murmurs that followed the discovery of Lily's identity. "We're going to show them that Slytherin is a better house, and that our families can go ahead and hate us if they want; they should be jealous!"
She would have done Lucy proud. Lily wondered briefly whether arrogance was an unofficial requisite for Slytherin, before realizing that the only reason it wasn't listed was probably because most Gryffindors had it in spades, as well.
"Aren't you related to Lucy Weasley?" demanded the girl, curling her lip at the name. "She's a Slytherin."
"She convinced my family eventually because other Weasleys have been Ravenclaws – my cousins Vic and Molly. But Potters, on the other hand. . ." Lily's voice was bitter.
Devienne surveyed her speculatively. "Well," he said abruptly. "You three should leave. And don't go wandering around – you wouldn't want to end up in a situation that is. . . unsavory."
Lily nodded rapidly and spun around. "Uh. . . how do I leave?" she asked.
"Close your eyes," Devienne ordered, a moment later she felt herself being pushed roughly forward, Morgan and Lorcan right beside her.
As the three went back to Lorcan's dormitory, which was currently empty, Morgan murmured thoughtfully, "They didn't offer to take us in."
Lorcan glanced at her. "They haven't showed us much kindness. They want to see if we'll go running back to our families in a few days, when the shock of being sorted into Slytherin has died down."
"Hmm. . ." Morgan grinned. "I suppose we'll have to have some sort of horrible argument with one of the older ones, yes? Maybe James and Rowan could blatantly ignore us in front of a few Riddlers? Devienne, perhaps?"
Lily grinned back. "How very devious."
Lorcan sprawled across the bed. "We can do that whenever they have potions in a few days. For now, all we can do is wait."
And wait they did, though they didn't have to do it very long. Three days later, James and Rowan were leaving potions alone, as per the plan. They were headed off to Quidditch practice, while Fred and Louis had gone off to do who knew what – probably something against the rules.
"James!" Lily called after her brother desperately. A few Slytherins on their way to their common room glanced at them with mild interest. What had happened to make Lily Potter, daughter of the famous Harry Potter, sound so distraught?
James continued walking coldly, and Morgan and Lily ran after them in one last vain attempt at reconciliation, leaving Lorcan behind to find his brother. "Rowan!" Morgan cried. "Please, wait!"
Lily saw with satisfaction that Devienne had paused, one eyebrow arched. Lily grasped her brother's arm, and he spun around with a furious glare. Lily shrank back in the face of that anger – she didn't have to act; when Gryffindors got righteously enraged, they were forces to reckon with.
"What?" James snarled. "Come to apologize? I thought I knew you, Lily – and now you're a slimy, deceitful little snake! The first in our family, Lily! The only."
She drew back. "Lucy's a Slytherin!"
"LUCY ISN'T A POTTER!" Lily would be running if she hadn't known her brother was acting – or was he completely? "We were supposed to be in the House of the brave together, Lils." She winced. "And now, you're here instead, and – I'm disgusted with you."
Lily's anger flared. "Fine! I wouldn't want to be a Gryffindor, anyway. Obviously, they've mistaken stupidity for bravery! And all your noble and honorable spiel is ridiculous – just an excuse to not have to do real work to get what you want!"
James's temper seemed to flare for real as well. "Tell yourself that, Lily. 'Cunning' is what they call your cowardice – you don't want a direct confrontation, so you run away and skulk in the shadows, plotting and lying and being no better than a filthy criminal to get your way without honor, without work. And your hunger for power makes you willing to do anything to other people, as long as you're all right yourself. You have no sense of loyalty, courage, or honor, so don't insult my House when yours is filled with despicable people!"
Fuming, Lily turned and stormed away, pure, unadulterated rage filling every inch of her face. How dare he insult her house like that? If that was what he thought –
Morgan caught up with her a few moments later. There were no tears now, no misery – only a vengeful desire to shove their siblings' words back down their throats. "No shouting match, nothing," Morgan told her. "Not like you and James. All I said was, 'Rowan, I'm your sister.' And she said, 'I don't have a sister. All my family's honorable.' And that was it."
Before this had happened, James and Rowan had assured them that they would be talking purely about the Riddlers with their insults, so Lily and Morgan knew it was all a farce – but it was easy to summon up anger at the hurtful words.
"We're going to show them," Lily vowed, turning to stare hard at Morgan.
"I can help you with that," a charming, cultured voice offered pleasantly. They spun around to find Devienne smiling promisingly at them. He walked over and put a hand on each of their backs, guiding them towards the Slytherin common room.
"You see. . ."
Al scanned the pitch fervently, straining to catch any flashes of gold; any signs indicating the presence of the snitch. It was the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor game; the first game of the year, and Dom was going to have his head if he didn't catch the snitch only after Gryffindor was at least a hundred points ahead.
The Ravenclaws' Keeper was no match for their Chasers (thank you, Rose Weasley, James Potter, and Del Pryce) so the score was currently seventy-ten to Gryffindor. In the words of the commentator, Gryffindor's Keeper Wood was 'on fire.' Ravenclaw Chaser Cecy Pryce had been the only one to manage to get the Quaffle past Rowan.
Al grinned to himself at Cecy's expression. The girl was seething, and her sister blew her a kiss before catching the Quaffle easily as Rose passed it to her. They scored again, and the crowd cheered.
"EIGHTY-TEN, GRYFFINDOR!" boomed the commentator enthusiastically. It happened to be Fred Weasley. "AND NOW, RAVENCLAW IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE, PRYCE NARROWLY AVOIDS A BLUDGER – OUCH, GRYFFINDOR BEATER MALFOY GETS HER IN THE ARM, FORCING HER TO DROP THE QUAFFLE, WHICH IS PICKED UP BY GRYFFINDOR CHASER WEASLEY!"
Al circled the pitch once more. If Gryffindor scored twice more, he could catch the snitch without Dom beating his head in with her Beater's bat. Dom and Scorpius had always been maniacs on the pitch, but Dom was starting to show an entirely new level of crazy, and was a major reason apart from Rowan why Ravenclaw only had ten points.
There was one player out on the pitch that interested Al more than anything, though – and she had dark russet hair, played Seeker for the other team, and had refused to give him her name since the beginning of the school year. For some reason, the girls in his year and hers thought it was incredible and refused to tell him her name.
In fact, just yesterday he had caught her in the library, which he knew she frequented quite often:
"Tell me your name." Al laughed as she scowled and sank deeper in her seat, using her book – Gone With the Wind – to hide her face.
"Scarlett O'Hara," she finally snapped, not looking up from her book.
With the typical, charming Potter smile, Al held out his hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you, Scarlett. I'm Rhett Butler."
She looked up at that, lowering her book, her mouth open. "You've read it?" she asked in astonishment. "I didn't know you – you didn't seem like the type to read Muggle classics."
He frowned slightly. "How would you know what I seem like? You haven't so much as shaken my hand."
She bit her lip. "But you – you're Al Potter! Famous son of Harry Potter, Gryffindor and top of the class, Quidditch prodigy, charming, good-looking, and intelligent. Cheesy pick-up lines aside, I thought that was all there was to know."
He grinned at her. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Why don't we find out at the next Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks? I know you're too young, but we could do something else."
She looked at him for a few moments before taking his hand, which was still outstretched. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'd like that."
Al resisted the urge to do a victory dance. "Anyway. . . good luck tomorrow. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, and I heard they've got a new Seeker." Then he added wryly, "Although they kept her identity a secret."
Her eyes lit up with laughter, and Al found he rather liked it. "I guess you'll find out at the game."
"You'll be there, won't you? I've seen you out on the pitch before, so I know you like to fly."
For some reason, she appeared even more amused, and she laughed. It sounded like music to Al. A few seconds after he had that thought, he mentally slapped himself, wondering if he had a fever. Maybe he'd eaten something bad at lunch that afternoon. Scorpius would have a field day if he knew what Al was thinking. Even Alice and Rose would thoroughly enjoy taking the mickey out of him for that.
"Oh, I'll be there," promised the Ravenclaw, breaking into his horrified thoughts.
"Great." He left the library feeling almost ridiculously happy.
Whoever invented the cheering charm had been wasting their time.
A sudden flash of gold broke Al out of his reverie, and he sped towards it. The Ravenclaw Seeker (her last name was Collins, although he wasn't sure what her first name was) hadn't managed to spot the snitch yet.
The snitch vanished from his left, and he tracked its progress as it circled before dashing off to hover near the ground. Al pressed his lips together. Collins was closer to it than he was, and she was a good flyer. He needed to. . .
Brows furrowed in concentration, Al suddenly shot towards the ground in the opposite direction of the snitch, right in front of the other Seeker. She followed immediately, and he heard Fred commentating excitedly. Everything else faded as he suddenly swerved inches away from the ground, and she crashed into the ground brutally.
He winced, filled with regret as his hand closed around the snitch, but Quidditch was a brutal game, and really, he didn't even know her name.
"AL POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS 240-10!" Apparently Rose had managed to get that last shot in. A sense of victory filled him, and he turned to find that Collins was dusting off her robes ruefully.
He gave her an apologetic nod, which she returned with a wryly, although she didn't look too happy about her loss. Just then, Fred's voice suddenly shouted out – "AH! IT APPEARS THE GRYFFINDOR CAPTAIN DOM WEASLEY IS INJURED, HIT BY A STRAY BLUDGER JUST BEFORE THE GAME ENDED."
Al immediately spun and watched in horror as Dom was put on a stretched and carted off to the hospital wing by the Headmistress. He ran up to her as the rest of the team crowded around their captain. "Professor McGonagall, is she conscious?"
"She'll be fine," the Headmistress snapped brusquely. Then she gave them a rare smile. "Congratulations on your win."
Al grinned, and the rest of the team followed to the hospital wing.
"She's finally awake!" Rose managed to get out, panting. Al, Scorpius, and Alice dropped their utensils and ran out of the Great Hall. Dom had been unconscious nearly the whole day – it was now dinnertime.
They hurtled into the hospital wing, ignoring Madam Pomfrey, who tutted at them disapprovingly, muttering under her breath. Dom was propped up against two pillows, and she had a dark bruise on her forehead. Her left eye was black, although there wasn't any vestige that her nose had been broken.
"Dom?" Rose asked, looking worriedly at her cousin. Dom coughed, spitting out blood, before giving them a crooked, bloody-toothed grin. "Don't die." Rose glanced at Al as Dom's eyes fluttered shut again. "Should I say it in French? Sometimes when Aunt Fleur wants her to listen, she speaks in French." Although, Vic was more likely to appreciate French than Dom, who only spoke it when absolutely forced to – but who were they to argue with Aunt Fleur's calming techniques?
Al waved his hand in front of Dom's face. She didn't stir. "Worth a try," he decided.
"Ah. . ." Rose swallowed. "Nous avons gagné le match." We won the match. She glanced at Al and Scorpius. Was that right? Apparently, it was good enough. Dom cracked an eye open and smiled painfully.
"Je t'adore, Dom," Rose continued solemnly. I love you, Dom. At that, Dom mumbled something. "Et tu m'adore aussi?" Rose guessed. And you love me, too?
Dom shook her head slightly. "J'ai dit. . . que je sais . ."
I said. . . that I know. . .
Rose snorted. Her cousin was fine.
"I can't believe the year's over," Rose sighed, leaning against the compartment wall and putting her feet on the opposite seat, in Alice's lap.
"I can't believe Slytherin won the House Cup," Scorpius said disgustedly.
Al grinned. "Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, though." He rubbed his side. "I think I still have a bruise on my ribs she from Dom's hug. . . and her tear stains on the shirt I wore to the celebratory party that night."
Alice shook her head. "Lily wouldn't stop talking about how great it was to win the House Cup in her first year, especially when Gryffindor's losses are so rare. She's just lucky that her House had Lucy."
"And Will, Dylan, and Holly," Rose put in. "Never would have won the House without them."
"I can't believe we lost by ten points. I knew there was a reason Professor Dewing knocked off those points!" Scorpius exclaimed.
Rose grinned at him. "I think it might have had more to do with the fact that we set of end of the year celebration fireworks in the middle of her class."
"She didn't know it was us!" Al argued.
Alice and Rose turned to give him a look, but Scorpius nodded vigorously. "Really, it could have been anyone," he reasoned.
"Scorpius – you said 'it worked!'" Alice rolled her eyes. "I think it was pretty clear who did it."
"I was talking about the potion."
They laughed. "I don't understand how Lily can still be so talkative," Al said eventually. "I mean, aren't Slytherins supposed to be tacit? The whole silent-and-brooding thing?"
"Silent, maybe," a new voice said from the doorway, and they turned to find Lucy standing there. "Definitely not brooding. That's more of you Gryffindor hero types' thing."
Scorpius scowled moodily and glared out the window, a dark expression crossing his face. "Like this?" he growled.
Rose's leaned over and poked him in the forehead, her eyes wide. "That's perfect," she said in amazement. "You should write a book!"
He let the expression drop, grinning at her. "On how to brood?"
Alice waved a hand. "Well, it won't work if you look like that. But keep the glower up, and you could be a real hit! I reckon you could make galleons off that look."
Al gave her a look that said he thought she was crazy. "For what? Witch Weekly's 'Top Ten Most Tortured Single Children of War Figures?'"
"They have one of those?" Scorpius demanded.
He nodded. "They've got a new list every year, according to Serena. We were laughing at an old copy with my dad on it." Serena Collins – Al's date with her during
Hogsmeade weekend had been a great hit, and she discovered that he'd read practically everything she had, at Rose's urging. That had been when he learned her full name.
Lucy frowned. "I don't want to spend my last trip back home from Hogwarts listening to the insane. I'm off to find Will." Lucy and Will were both planning to become Hit Wizards, while Dom was off to work with dragons in Romania with their Uncle Charlie.
It seemed that their family members were all going into dangerous, bloody, or at least prominent professions. There were no bartenders and such in the family. The adults spoke for themselves, while Teddy was an Auror, Vic was a Cursebreaker, Molly was a Diplomat in International Magical Cooperations, and now Dom was going to be a dragonologist while Lucy was off for Hit Wizard training – and there was a reason St. Mungo's gave Hit Wizards permanent beds with their names on it the moment they finished their training.
Sighing, Al continued, "As I was saying before, with Lily, she just seems too talkative to be a Slytherin."
"I think all the work she's done with the Riddlers is enough to prove that she's a Slytherin," Alice pointed out, casting a Muffliato at the door.
"Yeah," Al agreed. According to the first year Slytherins, there were seven old Riddlers members who now took leadership positions, telling them the blood status of several people – after all, when you were graduated and in the Ministry, it wouldn't be hard to look up students, depending on where you worked.
Rose looked out the window, watching their surroundings fly by in a blur of green. Sometimes she wondered how they felt, sitting in this very compartment, only instead of in the time of legacy, in the Golden Age or the Marauder's Era.
She was glad she wasn't Lucy or Dom.
She couldn't imagine leaving Hogwarts.