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James took great pleasure and pride in being an exasperating, irksome prat. Rose could not for the life of her understand why. She only wanted to talk to Roxanne.

Right now, he was grinning imperiously, with an unjustified superiority filling his boastful face. He stood in the doorway, blocking her entry, taking great satisfaction from Rose's growing frustration.

"I already told my fool of a brother. You can't sit with us." Rose snorted.

"Am I supposed to be disappointed?" Her tone was sharp and caustic.

"You should be." A voice rang from behind her. Rose and James turned towards the figure with crossed arms and a bold face. "You just missed an excellent opportunity to watch James Potter make a fool of himself over fifty times in an hour." Thick streams of dark brown hair spilled down her back. Melted chocolate danced in her fierce, delighted eyes. She tilted her head. "But then again, it's not exactly a rare occurrence."

"Sara!" Roxanne squealed, leaping from her seat in the compartment. She pushed a disgruntled James aside, into the frame of the doorway. She pronounced it as Saa-raa. Sara smirked. James narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose. He crossed his arms, mirroring her stance.

Fred gave an impish grin. He leaned forward. "Sara's here. James's here. Let`s hope the train doesn't burn down from this encounter." The other boys and girls began snickering among each other.

"Look Rose!" James shook Rose's arm, without taking his eyes of Sara's sardonic gaze. "There's an annoying, irritating know-it- all who nobody likes! It can only be Her Highness, Sara Barjati!"

"Don't look Roxanne!" Sara shook Roxanne's arm. "Looking at James Potter's face often results in nausea, vomiting and loss of your voice due to the shock that someone really can be too stupid for words."

"Please. People are dying to see this face. People take pictures of this face and hang it on their walls. People wish they had faces like mine." Sara and Rose exchanged a doubtful look.

"Maybe antisocial Slytherins who want to make Gryffindors run away in fear."

"You're just jealous you'll never be as beautiful or desirable as me."

"Only those desperate to meet your daddy would put up with you." Sara waved to the other people in the compartment. They looked away, embarrassed.

"Whereas not even a thousand galleons would tempt anyone to spend more than a minute in your presence."

Sara Barjati had quickly become very famous in the Potter-Weasley household. She had become famous even faster at Hogwarts. She was a muggle-born girl, whose parents were both from India. She was at the top of her class, stubborn, and had a fierce outspokenness and a love for sarcasm. She was an avid reader, a proud feminist, and had a passion for all kinds of social justice. But she distanced herself. While an entertaining conversationalist, she preferred to remain alone, and stopped herself from forming emotional connections. When you looked at her, you could see she was thinking a million things, but you knew you would never be granted access to them. There was a veiled sadness in her eyes, as if she had seen things she hadn't wanted to. She was wise, and spent more time contemplating deep questions of human morality than caring about how she looked. That made her less appealing to most of the other girls (notably Jenna Finnigan).

She had unfortunately on her first train ride sat in James and Fred's compartment. There were four other boys and girls, fawning over them in a way they very much enjoyed. She had been tightly gripping her thick novel, blushing and glancing downwards self-consciously. She talked softly and sweetly (James would later believe that he had imagined it). James and Fred had immediately decided she would be an easy target, and James was quick to pin her as a future Hufflepuff. After insulting her quite a few times, mocking her in front of the other admiring faces, and taunting her for ten minutes, Sara snapped her book shut. She grabbed her bag, marched in front of him, and smacked him across his cocky face with the hardcover book. His glasses were knocked off. Caught off guard, he also tumbled off his seat. He lay there, stupidly confused as she walked out without a word. Soon the entire train knew about it. James's pride was mortified, even more so when she was sorted into Gryffindor (after he told all his friends she was too spineless to be). Even though he bragged often, he was an energetic, cheerful boy, who did care for other people. He was kind to everyone, making them laugh. But Sara irritated him in a way no one else did. A couple weeks into the year, in front of the entire Great Hall, he called her weak and pathetic. He imitated the way her hand shot up in class and said she didn't belong in Gryffindor. Sara stood up, looked him in the eye, and told him all the reasons she belonged there and he didn't. She gave him a verbal lashing that stole all the words from his mouth and left the school very impressed. She gained a lasting reputation as more than just a smart, independent Gryffindor.

It had been a big deal at the time. After a few days, the shouting matches and clever exchange of insults became a regular occurrence. She was one of the few people, aside from the rest of the family, who was unwilling to pet James Potter's ego. To go a step further, she was unafraid to tell him exactly where he stood in her regard. And it was not very high. She admired some of his traits, but they were mostly obscured by his conceited narcissism and chronic boasting over the dumbest parts of his personality. He didn't put in much of an effort, but still received high marks (but less than hers). Sara, who believed in hard work and dedication above all else, found this unpardonable. Everyone knew he would soon be one of the best fliers in the school (brilliant and only entering second year), but considering he wouldn't let anyone forget it, Sara was never eager to give him much credit. The rest of the school was falling over their feet to do it.

Roxanne giggled.

"Rose, this is Sara Barjati. Sara, this is Rose Weasley." Roxanne was dark-skinned like Angelina (who most would remember was black). Fred, her twin, was more light-skinned. She took great enjoyment in working with her kinky hair, finding fashionable, sophisticated clothes, and dressing up everyone around her. She loved making people feel more beautiful. It was power in itself. That didn't make her any less strong than anyone else. She adored her femininity, and she loved being a Gryffindor. She didn't like being underestimated. Fred was the more well-known prankster, but Roxanne had received a fair share of her father`s genes. She was completely capable of pulling a prank that would be talked about for weeks, even months. And she was smart enough not to get caught (James and Fred seemed to purposely plan getting caught). Roxanne respected and admired Sara (despite their differences). And Roxanne refused to completely let go when Sara tried to withdraw (sometimes purposely, sometimes subconsciously). That meant a lot to Sara, who had never had many friends before Hogwarts.

"Hi Rose! I've been so excited to meet you! Roxanne has told me a lot of amazing things about you." Sara gave a wide, genuine smile. Rose realized Sara had a beautiful smile. She lightly colored.

"I doubt it compares to all the incredible things I've heard about you. You're very popular in the Potter-Weasley household. I've been waiting to meet you all year!" Sara looked ready to argue over the praise she received.

"I can hardly see why." James scoffed.

"Kind of like how we can barely see anything behind your big head." Sara retaliated. Rose began to laugh.

"You can sit with us Rose." Roxanne added. "Sara and I will find another compartment, away from these losers."

"No, that's fine. Al and I are sitting with our new friend Scorpius."

Rose was getting tired of the surprised looks every time she told somebody. Hadn't they learned to expect the unexpected from her by now?

"What! You can`t sit with him!" Rose`s eyes flashed dangerously.

"And why not?" Her voice was deadly quiet. "Don't think I actually care about your opinion James."

"He's a Malfoy!" James believed he was responsible for all his younger siblings and cousins, but only when he wanted to be a prat. Rose inhaled sharply. She prepared to begin yelling at him, but Sara beat her to it.

"Well you're an egotistical prat, and you actually take pride in it, but we still forgive you." Sara quipped. "And he's Scorpius Malfoy, not Draco Malfoy. He's his own person." Sara looked back to a gratified Rose. "Tell him I think he's very brave, and very courageous. You too. It takes strength to be who you are and do what you want."

Rose already loved Sara.

It had turned out better than Rose had expected.

Chocolate frog wrappers and empty Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans boxes lay littered over the seats. They were debating with great energy whether Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy or Albus Severus Potter was a worse name to have. Scorpius smothered a laugh when he saw her. He exchanged a knowing look with Al, who was avoiding Rose's questioning gaze.

"I don't even want to know what Al told you about me." Scorpius stopped trying to hold back his laugh. He had a warm, affectionate laugh.

"Only good things." His eyes twinkled in a way Draco's never had for the first seventeen years of his life.

"That's a matter of opinion." Al muttered. Rose attempted to glare, but quickly fell into the boys' laughter.

"Firs' Years! Right this way!"

Rose squealed. She dashed towards a voluminous, towering leviathan with a lantern in his hand. She extended her tiny arms against his wide stomach. Scorpius thought that this was the signal that their friendship was coming to an end. Rose and Al had their real lives, their real friends to return to. He ignored the wave of disappoint he felt. He began to turn away, but Al grabbed his arm.

"Fancy finding a boat?" He asked casually. Scorpius attempted to force a sound out of his parched throat.

"Come on, we'll introduce you to Hagrid." Al began pulling him towards the thick pillar of hair. "He's great. But it might be better if you don't bring up Hippogriffs in front of him."

Rose grabbed his arm and linked it with hers.

"Hagrid," Rose's eyes gleamed mischievously, "I would like you to meet our friend, Scorpius."

Scorpius glanced upwards shyly. He had to crane his neck to catch sight of the giant's nonplussed face. But Hagrid had kind, compassionate eyes.

"Hello." Scorpius uttered softly.

Hagrid blinked.

"Malfoy's boy?" Hagrid's bushy eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy mane of hair. He looked back to Rose. "Ron an' Harry okay with this?"

"Probably not." Rose admitted cheerfully, while yanking Al and Scorpius into the nearest boat.

Scorpius began to say something, but then he saw the castle. It was the most breath taking sight. The spirals of stone soared upwards into the shimmering stars. The castle's reflection danced upon the sheet of water, which shone under the light of the moon.

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

The entire Great Hall fell into silence. Hundreds of heads whipped upward from their conversations to stare in shock. Their eyes burned into his back as he slowly trudged to the stool. They were distrustful, angry, perplexed, curious. Buzzing erupted among the students.

"I can't believe they let him in." A fourth year Gryffindor spat.

"What were they thinking?" A mousy haired, second year Hufflepuff girl muttered.

"After everything those people have done." A professor was shaking her head from the teacher's table.

"We won't let him in our house." A seventh year Ravenclaw puffed out his chest.

"Traitorous villains. They're the reason the Dark Lord fell." The Slytherin table glared at him.

Scorpius felt waves of shame erupt in his chest. He raised his chin, donning the Malfoy façade of disinterest. But his hands shook. He buried them in fists out of sight.

I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodiewhywhywhyWHY?

That was a good question.

Why?

He had been born into a conflict extending back centuries. He had received what had been passed down for generations. He had inherited the blame and the punishment that had accumulated over decades.

Who were these people? Not just the students of Hogwarts, who wore their hatred for him like a fashionable perfume. Who couldn't remember the reasons but didn't feel they needed them anyway. It was the witches and wizards, with children the same age as him, walking down Diagon Alley, glowering at him. The old matriarchs and patriarchs, with grandchildren running at their heels. Who'd lost parents and friends and people they held dear. The people who had witnessed all the terrible things that hatred could do and had done. Shouldn't they have known better? Didn't they?

But no, they needed someone to blame. And if it was easiest to blame an eleven year old boy with pale skin and a smirk they were sure was on his face, then they would. He wasn't a person to them. Not really. He was simply an abstract representation of what they hated. And so they felt no guilt. And Scorpius let them believe what they wanted to believe.

After the final Battle, Harry Potter, with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger behind him, had stood up before the entire Wizengamot to assert that Draco Malfoy and his mother were innocent and deserved no punishment. He won. They were allowed to return to Malfoy Manor, while Lucius was thrown into Azkaban for life. Draco and Harry exchanged a few terse words afterwards. Scorpius's father attempted to thank him. Harry said he did not need to give it. They shuffled from foot to foot, embarrassed. Then they went on with their lives. But ¾ of the wizarding world had been incensed. Harry Potter could not prevent Ministry officials from searching the Manor from top to bottom. Priceless possessions and antiques that had been in the family for centuries were carted off. The Malfoys lost most of their wealth. They had to start over again.

The witch dropped the Sorting Hat upon his head, but didn't remove her hand from it. As if she already knew. That it would only take the hat seconds to see Slytherin. As if she already knew who Scorpius was, and who he was going to be. The friends he would have, the things he would say. His life was laid out before her eyes.

And what reason did she have to believe any different? Hadn't it been this way for hundreds and hundreds of years? Who was Scorpius to be any different? Who was he to even believe he could be different?

'Most interesting…' Scorpius could hear a simper in the voice of the hat. 'Now the question is… Are you willing to take the chance, and make a choice? To be different? To be yourself?'

Scorpius pondered the question. It would be so much easier to be what they expected him to be. Be sorted into Slytherin. His reputation would be sealed. It would be easier for everyone. Nothing would have to change. But easy was something Scorpius was never meant to have.

'Yes.' Scorpius declared. 'I am. I'm terrified, but I am. I will. Regardless of where you put me.'

Scorpius caught sight of Rose and Albus, among the line of unsorted first years. Albus was holding his breathe like the rest of the Hall, when Scorpius hadn`t been sorted in the first minute. But Rose was smiling brightly. Either she felt she knew what the outcome would be, or it didn't matter to her anyway. Scorpius couldn't explain it, but he knew it was the latter.

Scorpius didn't want to be scared anymore. People would hate him regardless. Change would come regardless. What good would it do the world for him to be anyone but himself?

"GRYFFINDOR!" That was the hat's reply.

Then.

There.

Hundreds of years of tradition, pureblood supremacy, hatred and bigotry came crashing down in a single moment. Scorpius wondered how many of his ancestors were rolling in their graves.

'Good luck Scorpius.' The Hat whispered as he slid off the stool.

No one spoke.

Tell me what you thought! What did you like? What didn't you like? How was Sara? What do you think's going to happen? What do you want to happen?

Quote: Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go. ~ T.S. Eliot