I hope the people who wanted Al to be in Slytherin aren't too disappointed. I like the idea of a Potter in Slytherin a lot, but I just don't think Al himself is much of a Slytherin. But don't worry- there are still a few more Potter-Weasleys that have to be sorted.

Thank you so much to all the people that reviewed, favorited, followed, or read my story! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"AHHH! Sp- Spi- SPIDER!"

"Rose, calm down, it's just a tiny, harmless - "

"Kill it Kill it Kill it Kill it!"

"Shut up Al! Rose, where is it?"

"Right there! Can't you see it!?"

"…I don't see it…"

"Are you BLIND? There!"

"…"

"That thing? Rose, that's smaller than the nail on my pinky."

"Just kill it Scorpius!"

"But Rose, don't you think you're overreacting…"

"KILL IT!"

"Alright, alright. There, it's dead. You can let go of me now."

Rose's arms were wrapped tightly around Scorpius's neck, to the point where he was actually having difficulty breathing. Rose released a sigh of relief and relaxed her iron grip.

"I wasn't that scared." She insisted. She jutted her chin out, daring anyone to argue. Scorpius and Al exchanged a look over her head.

"I think she's just using the spiders as an excuse to choke us to death." Al muttered. Scorpius smothered a laugh. They sat themselves on the bench beside her.

"What did you get on the last homework assignment for Charms?" Scorpius asked her casually, leaning against the table.

"Ten out of ten." Rose smirked. "What about you? Wasn't it… nine or something…?"

"I had everything you had!" Scorpius bristled. "That Madgewick troll is just out to get me!"

"If you say so."

"Well Slughorn said my potion was the best in the class."

"Only because my partner was that Finnegan girl and she messes up any Potion she touches!"

"Oi!" A shout came from down the table.

"Mind you, I still came second, very close behind you. And anyway, I was the first in the class to transfigure the match into a needle."

"Only about ten seconds before me."

"Sure, sure. And I got Gryffindor 20 points in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I got us 25 in Herbology."

"Only because I told you the answers before class."

"You think I actually understood anything you said in that monologue?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to top you on the essay due next period."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night."

Al shoved a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. "Are either of you actually considering the possibility of me beating you?"

"No." They answered in unison.

"Good to know." Al grumbled, "I'll just become a threat when you least expect it."

Scorpius reached downwards into his bag, running his fingers along the multiple objects. A month had passed in seconds, and those seconds had become an eternity. He lightly touched each individual object, closing his eyes and remembering what they meant to him.

He dragged his fingertips over the first pair of letters he'd received, signed with ornate strokes.

Dear Scorpius,

I was rather concerned when neither your mother nor I received a letter from you, despite your many assertions we didn't have to worry about being left in the dark about your life. I feel slightly hurt that you would feel the need to conceal the outcome of your sorting, or the friends you made. I had hoped that you would have known I would feel pride for you, regardless of where you went. Believe me when I say this now, I am very proud to have a Gryffindor as a son. However, I must admit I am somewhat wary about your choice of friends.

Don't think I'm not happy for you. It is not because they are a Potter and a Weasley (well, maybe a little). I say this only out of concern for your well being. You are children at the moment, and you do not feel the true affect of our pasts on your lives. The rebellion is very small to you, and most likely enjoyable. But both of our families have history, and we have been in terrible places together. We have left scars on each other; we are branded in each other's memories in ways that will never fade. You have seen many things Scorpius, and you at age 11 have become a man with strength I have not been able to acquire even today.

I know you will for sure misunderstand what I am trying to say. I am only happy when you are happy. Please know that I want you to enjoy your time with your new friends, but I want you to remember that it may not, and is not likely, to last forever. Don't give away too much of your heart. Try to hold yourself at a distance. I know it isn't easy, and I am sorry you even have to, but it is the best for a person in your situation.

Please don't feel defensive. Reading your friend's letter, I can already tell she is a strong, smart, if somewhat scary, little girl. She is truly the daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I have no doubt her cousin is also a kind, sensitive boy. In due time, I will tell you all of our history with them, and no doubt their parents will unveil it all to them. It is very dark and includes many things I regret bitterly, mainly my weakness I am sorry to say I still possess. Once all of you learn the truth, it may be difficult, and most likely impossible to look at each other or your friendship in the same way. It might become too painful to continue, and I want to prepare you for the possibility of that outcome. I want to protect you as much as I can. I love you too much to see your heart broken that way.

But for now, just enjoy. How are your classes? Your teachers? What is your favorite place in the school? How are the other students? How are your friends? Does Rose Weasley go on tangents about house elves? When is your first flying class? I always had a mild curiosity to know how the Gryffindor common room looked like (not that I'd ever admit it to anyone other than you).

Please don't be angry at my words, but keep them at the back of your mind.

Your loving father,

Draco

P.S. Don't tell your mother I told you this, but if you can, it would be nice if you could beat that Weasley girl in most, if not all of your classes. Don't feel pressured. But it would be nice. I would prefer it.

His mother's letter was full of reprimands and questions and happiness. But her letter ended differently.

Don't listen to anything your father says about your friends. You do not have to live the same lives we did. You are already a better person than we will ever be. You will make things happen in this world Scorpius. I know it. Don't let him, or anyone else, stop you from doing or being what you are capable of.

With all the love in the world,

Mum

With it came a box of chocolate frogs for both Al and Rose. And a pair of red gloves.

Scorpius's fingers drifted towards the red and gold scarf Molly Weasley had knitted for Al. Scorpius had borrowed it last week. Al never asked for it back, and Scorpius couldn't seem to find the strength to offer. Al wrote home saying he lost it, and a new one was brought to him the next day. Neither of them mentioned it when Scorpius wore it.

He pressed his thumb to the detention slip James and Fred had gotten for dueling a fourth year boy that had been insulting Scorpius behind his back in the hallways. They had carelessly mentioned it in a conversation (in which they mainly insulted Al and complained about their homework), before accidently leaving it on the couch when they left for their dormitories. Rose pretended she didn't see when Scorpius picked it up and kept it in his bag, for a reason he did not completely understand.

He felt his lips slip into a smile when he touched the spine of Rose's old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. She'd shoved it into his hands beneath the plants one morning in Herbology. She quickly whispered that it was her favorite and that the copy was now his. He'd read it that night in his bed, feeling himself fall into the world of words echoing through the fading pages.

He dragged his pinky over a smoky feather the color of darkening ash. He recalled the encounter in his first week…

The sky was pale. The wind shivered around him. He grasped the wooden rail with his gloved hands and craned his neck, attempting to get a better sight from behind the pumpkins of the magnificent creature with smoldering orange eyes and a neck dressed in shiny feathers, raised upright with pride.

"Hippogriffs." A voice washed in wonder drifted lightly towards him. The enormous giant, with his muscular arms and powerful body, looked more like an innocent child, watching with amazement at all the spectacular glory the world and its parts were capable of. "Beautiful creatures, aren' they?"

"What's his name?"

"Wither – " Hagrid stopped suddenly. He tilted his head and considered Scorpius for a couple seconds.

"Buckbeak." Hagrid admitted slowly.

"Buckbeak." Scorpius repeated softly. "Buckbeak. He's stunning."

"Isn' 'e?" They stared in silence, both watching in awe beneath the cold as Buckbeak spread his breathtaking wings, unveiling thousands of shades of gray and blue. Hues that varied ever so slightly, catching the light and the clouds and the sky in different ways, holding the colors in its grasp. Hagrid shifted.

"Scorpius, is it?"

"Yeah. That's me."

"I'm Care for Magical Creatures professor. If yuh come aroun' with Rose an' Al for tea on Friday afternoon, I'd be 'appy to show yuh some more."

Scorpius smiled shyly. "I'd love to," He whispered. Hagrid's beetle-black eyes shined.

Finally, Scorpius wrapped his hand around a sleek, black object.

He remembered his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

She wore muggle sweatpants beneath her robes. The robes were old and splattered with paint stains. The black had faded away into gray, and was smeared with reds, dotted with yellows, and filled with handprints of green and blue. She was from Cameroon, and that's what she told people who were determined to say she was African. She insulted students, the system, and Professor Madgewick all in the same breath, which made her very likable. She truly did not give a damn about what anyone else thought and was open about expressing her views on the even the most controversial and sensitive issues, so she was generally a role model for most students. She had them call her Professor Lindsey instead of Professor Wangmene (first name instead of last). She was hired a few years ago in her early twenties when the older Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (who had taught from the end of the war until then) decided to move into the ministry. Apparently the first thing she said when she came in for the interview was that she would be the worst, most biased, lazy and inept teacher they could ever hire, and went on to give a list of reasons and examples to prove why. Professor Stonebrooke wanted no one but her. She had, to the surprise of no one, been a Gryffindor, and had only been 5 years old when the war ended. When she came across students dueling or planning a prank, she usually squealed and sat down to watch. That was often enough to deter them. She actually joined in on a food fight that James and Fred had started the year before (along with several other professors). She enjoyed occasionally canceling assignments out of the blue for no reason (but this only happened once or twice in a year). In short, students loved her.

Her hair, in the cornrow style, was partially shoved upon her head in a flimsy bun and partially spilling past her shoulders. She was chewing on one braid while simultaneously twisting another with a pencil. She was furiously rubbing her fingers on a pencil drawing from her book for shading after lunch when the first years entered for their first class. Her eyelids flew open and she assumed a slightly crazed smile of psychotic excitement. She leapt up, tossing her book aside on her cluttered desk. She walked to the desk the three were sitting in.

"Mr. Malfoy." She raised her back with exaggerated authority.

"Yes Professor?"

"It has recently been brought to my attention that I am obligated to hate you."

"…I've noticed most people do feel that way about me."

"This presents me with a dilemma."

"…Alright?"

"You see, I have a bit of a rebellious spirit. And so, upon learning this, my instant reaction was to make you one of the favorites I pretend I don't have, mainly just to spite the status quo. But the problem is, you really could be an unlikable bully, and then I would just end up being stubborn and favoring you anyway, which would really end up messing up the reputation as a fair teacher I don't have."

Scorpius blinked. "I can see how that would be a problem. Though in all honesty, someone liking me is not really a problem I've had to deal with."

Rose and Al started coughing loudly.

"Until a day ago." Scorpius amended. Professor Lindsey nodded seriously.

"So I propose a solution. You be the kindest, smartest, and most helpful boy in class, and I won't have to feel very guilty about turning a blind eye every time you deserve detention. Okay?"

Scorpius stared. "Okay…"

"Great!" She flashed a thumbs up. She then turned to Al and Rose.

"I've also learned that I am obligated to love you. This fills me with an urge to give you detention for no reason. But from what I've seen of you two, that would be very difficult to convince myself to do. I have always thought jumping on tables and screaming to hundreds of people is the best way to get them to do what I want." Rose blushed. "And honestly, we already have Madgewick giving out detentions to everybody except those that deserve them, so we already have that post filled."

"Aren't you not allowed to insult your colleagues?" Al asked curiously.

"I'm also not allowed to make my class nap time, but considering I want to sleep all the time except when I actually have time to sleep, the rules aren't really going to stop me."

She giggled before moving back to the front of the class. She used her powerful voice to silence the rest of the students.

"I answer to Professor Lindsey. Today, I'm going to teach you the Vermillious spell to send red sparks, a universal magical spell for help. Because honestly, in my class, for the next seven years you are going to need a lot of help."

She taught them the incantation, and then had them take turns practising and presenting the spell. She assigned them the homework of creating something creative and artistic to reflect their personalities, to help her get to know them better. She said it would be due after Christmas. This confused many people. When they informed her of it, she said that was the point.

"I love her." Al sighed as they began moving out the door among the tide of chattering students.

"I'm out of your league Potter," Professor Lindsey called back, "And way better looking."

"How many times have you said that to my brother?"

"I often have to remind your brother he is not respecting a person if he isn't respecting their decisions. But I'm pretty sure Sara will have plenty of opportunities to remind him of that once he realizes he loves insulting her so much for a reason. He's an odd one, that boy. But has good taste, when it comes to girls at least."

Al choked. "He hates her!"

"That's usually the first clue. Sara and James are also two of my favorites I pretend I don't have."

Al shook his head in disbelief. Rose wrinkled her nose. "She deserves so much better than James." She muttered.

"Wait, could you come here Scorpius?" Professor Lindsey called out again, "I want to talk to you." Scorpius waved Al and Rose away when they asked to stay. He walked slowly, feeling slightly nervous because it was the first time in the last hour he had seen Professor Lindsey's face grow serious.

"What is your passion Scorpius?"

He was taken aback. "Huh?"

"What are your hopes, your dreams? What is your aspiration in life? Your deepest desire?"

Lindsey tilted her head, and Scorpius felt dizzy staring into her spinning brown orbs. He scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh…until a day ago, it was mainly not getting beat up…" Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"I see you're setting high standards for yourself."

"Trust me, it seemed outrageous when no one did much but glare and insult me."

"In all due fairness Scorpius, if your aims in life depend upon the careless whims and uninformed opinions of others, you aren't going to end up feeling very fulfilled. You aren't going to become the person you are capable of being if what you aspire for is the good opinion of random strangers and idiots whose opinions shouldn't matter to you anyway."

"Right. Sorry." Scorpius clenched his teeth. "It seems easier to say now, when…"

Professor Lindsey wasn't listening. She reached over into the clutter of her desk and grasped a black object. She took his hand and pressed it into his palm.

Scorpius stared downwards. It was a camera.

"The world is an incredible place. Full of people with unfathomable lives and pasts and possibilities and feelings that make them who they are," She whispered, "You've been watching it for a long time. Start showing the world what you see, what it means to you."

She gently guided him out the door.

Scorpius had always been able to detach himself from the world and watch from the outside. He could from far away, stare into the eccentric intricacies of random strangers, into the darkness people hid from the rest of the world. Into their habits that he knew probably mirrored something bigger, and into their emotions that became tangled with the people beside them. Observing the world had helped him understand what it meant to be human; what people did and why. But with the camera he could capture brief flashes of emotion; freeze the fleeting, evanescent moments, trapping them in paper forever.

A momentary second entombed. Framed upon a wall, shoved in a back pocket. The youth, the love, the anger, the poignancy of the feelings that may or may not one day fade – they became eternal.

The photographs were wrapped in wax paper at the bottom of his bag. He let each one drift into his mind.

Sara's silhouette melting into the shadow of the clouds in the sky. Shades of gray, overlapping. You can see her back, her head and the outline of the side of her extended legs. The waves of the lake shine white and lick her toes, lapping around her bare feet. There is a notebook open on her thighs, and a pen upon the sand.

That's another thing Scorpius noticed about Sara. Sometimes she's there, and sometimes she's not. Sometimes she's a passionate whirlwind, burning herself into the pages of the world, unforgettable. A powerful voice, her opinions forced into the hands of others. About the world, people, poverty, justice, discrimination, life. She has something deep and profound to say about everything. But then she withdraws. Retreats from entanglements with other humans. Her eyes glaze over, and she's staring at something no one else can see.

She still smiles, she's still here, but she's gone. She's in another world. Her eyes are far away, living the life of a book character, or watching the stories she's creating in her mind, with her pen, on her paper.

Rose on her broom, hurtling upwards into the deep, cloudless blue. Her flaming curls are burning behind her neck, above her eyes, on her cheek, everywhere. The sunlight screams behind her body.

Rose is insane and intoxicated with the freedom the wind brings her. Scorpius realized there is a great deal of mental stress that having Rose Weasley as a best friend brings.

Professor Longbottom, tending his plants. His forehead is clear. His sleeves are rolled up. A soft sunlight drifts through the glass of the greenhouse. He looks calm and patient.

He didn't look up when Scorpius took the picture, but Scorpius is almost sure he saw a small smile on the professor's face.

Hogwarts House Elves, hundreds of tiny creatures bustling between each other. Running and rushing in circles. All almost identical with the same floppy ears and large eyes the size of tennis balls. It was like staring down at a swirling storm of ants.

They all stopped their activities and bowed to him after they heard the click of the camera. Many unwillingly. Scorpius hurried out, ignoring their offers for making more food.

James darting behind a suit of armor, peering from behind the metal, his light brown eyes glinting and gliding mischievously. His finger is on his chin. His head is tilted thoughtfully.

Scorpius learned later that James was planning on filling the hallway with Cornish Pixies. Al could later testify that this was a success. He had been in the hallway. So had Professor Madgewick. Professor Longbottom and Professor Lindsey pretended they hadn't been laughing about it when she walked into the Great Hall.

Al in the hospital wing, tenderly touching his fingertips to the multiple colored vials. His lips are parted slightly, and his brow is furrowed in contemplation.

Madam Pomfrey, now much older and grayer but just as strict, put her hands on her hips when she walked in to the sight of Al touching her potions.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing!" Al squeaked and dragged Scorpius by the arm out of the hospital wing.

Madam Pince at her desk. Her lips are pursed and her eyes are fixed on the page of the book. Her fists are clenched. She presses them to the desk. Her glasses have slid half way down her sharp nose. Her thick, dark eye brows are scrunched together.

She yelled at him and kicked him out after she heard him take the picture.

Jenna Finnegan in the Gryffindor common room, legs crossed, amid a cluster of other girls. A colorful magazine is open in front of her. Her back is raised. Her eyes are narrowed. She simpers. The other girls lean forward and crane their necks to see the pages of Witch Weekly. Vapid smiles, wide eyes.

Some giggled when he took the picture. Jenna tossed her hair and smirked. Scorpius left as fast as he could.

The world was a magical place with millions of stories. Some feeble and fleeting, melting quick on your tongue but sweet. Some rising, swelling until they were towering waves, with the power to alter lives. Every picture held a person and their story. In their eyes, in the movement of their hands, in the expression of their mouth. And with the light, the colors, the angles, Scorpius could say what he saw and what he felt without ever opening his mouth.

Rose stared at him from across the table. He smiled at her knowingly.

'Can I see them?' She mouthed.

'Soon.' He mouthed back.

A couple days later, Harmen arrived with a letter. A single line from his mother was written in cursive upon a scrap of paper.

They have decided to release your grandfather from Azkaban.

Of course they chose now. Scorpius was pretty sure it was the editor of the Daily Prophet deciding when important things like this happened. Him, and the girl in charge of the Witch Weekly gossip column.

Somewhere else in the castle, Madgewick screamed because Fred and James had dropped a bag of Nifflers on her head.

Madgewick always wore shiny, shimmering, ostentatious robes.

Hope you liked it! Which of the Potter-Weasley family members do you think will be least accepting of Scorpius? Tell me what you think- I love reviews! Even if you didn't like it, I'd really like to know what you think I could do better.

Quote: Do what you feel in your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt