ICN: Not for any particular reason, but Albus in my head is ace/demisexual. Maybe because his namesake was celibate for most of his life, indicating that he was plausibly on the asexual/demisexual spectrum? Mostly I just think it fits him somehow.

HAIR: black.

EYES: green.

WAND: hazel, unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches.

Albus Potter closed his eyes as the Malfoy boy was announced a Slytherin. He was the fourth first-year to be Sorted so and no matter how he told himself otherwise, Albus was convinced that he himself would go the same way.

He wasn't sure why he was so certain. There was nothing about him that marked him as a definite Slytherin; he wasn't particularly sly or calculating, nor was he interested in power or fame, despite having access to both through his highly influential parents. He supposed that he had a reluctant fascination with the Dark Arts, but merely to study; he had no desire to hurt anybody. And maybe he could be a bit manipulative and sneaky, but only to serve his own purposes and never to cause harm or turn people against each other. He wasn't a textbook Slytherin by any means.

Then again, his Dad wasn't either but the Sorting Hat had still wanted to put him in the green and silver. Maybe it ran in the family. He was enough like his father in every other way. The only reason his Dad hadn't become a Slytherin was because he wanted to be a Gryffindor; Albus had no such wish. He got enough of the 'Three Musketeers', as his brother and two pushiest cousins were dubbed by the adults, at home. Not to mention the rather strong-willed Molly.

His striking green eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table at the thought. Fred and Dom were next to each other, with James opposite them talking in whispers to some boy Albus didn't recognise. Molly was up the other end of the table, running her fingers nervously through her newly layered hair, which up until this year had remained in a thick, unfailingly unfashionable bob cut since she was a toddler. Everyone had been surprised when she'd casually turned up at the Burrow gathering with soft, choppy layers and a carefully styled side fringe. Albus had to smile as he watched her badly disguised worry; he had always liked Molly, despite being as reluctant to spend time with her as the rest of his cousins. There was something endearing about her defensive, uptight attempts to pretend she didn't care about the outside world.

Similarly, Albus felt an unexpected kinship with his only cousin from his father's side, Abigail. He searched for her amongst the red and gold, only to find her already peering at him through her overgrown brown bangs. At fourteen, Abby was very physically developed and a little overweight, yet her wide eyes and tremulous mouth were those of a child. James thought that Abby was annoying and mopey, but Albus had seen how gently his beloved father treated her whenever she came around to stay - which had been regularly over the past three summers - and even his no-nonsense, impatient mother often took her aside for 'girl talk' and looked at her with warmth in her eyes. Albus had long since decided to follow his parents' lead and made an effort to be friends with Abby. He smiled at her and was gratified to receive a genuinely affectionate grin and wave back.

Looking back at his brother, Albus started when he realised that James had twisted around and was watching him. His elder brother gave him an uncharacteristically encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. Albus managed a shaky smile in return, touched that James might be feeling bad about his taunting earlier… well, for the last four or five years, really. He'd always reacted badly and denied it hotly when James jokingly accused him of being a closet Slytherin, but even if his brother didn't really believe it… deep down, Albus did.

He turned and caught the eye of his cousin Rose, feeling a little better when she beamed at him. Rose and his Dad were the only two people who seemed entirely happy with the idea that Albus might be in the 'bad' house. His Dad had pulled him aside for a talk at Platform Nine and Three Quarters which had reassured Albus so much that he had blurted out to Rose on the train how he thought he'd be in Slytherin. Although obviously surprised, she had merely shrugged and smiled at him. Even his Mum didn't react so well when he'd confessed his secret dread to her, automatically assuring him that maybe he would be in some other house like Ravenclaw. Albus had wanted to yell at her that he didn't want to be in Ravenclaw; the only place he felt he might belong was Slytherin but belonging there would, he feared, mean not belonging within his family. He'd kept silent though, as always.

Quite unexpectedly, Professor Vector called out 'Potter, Albus' and the Hall hushed slightly as he crept forward. The dark-haired, imposing witch peered down her patrician nose at him as he approached her. Sliding onto the stool, the young boy closed his eyes and prepared for the intrusion into his mind. It came as a mild surprise when, without any feeling of invasion or interference, a quiet and calm voice spoke up as naturally as his own thoughts might.

"Another young Potter. This feels familiar… you are very, very much like your father."

"I know," whispered Albus, who had been told so all his life.

"I was not speaking of looks, although the resemblance is uncanny there too. No, your mind is almost a replica of his at your age. There are differences, of course… you are slightly more academically inclined, he was perhaps of a more reckless disposition… one thing in particular strikes me. Something you have which he lacked."

"What?"

"Acceptance. You know where you belong."

Albus sighed wearily. He suddenly just wanted to get it over with and go sit down for the Feast. He was tired of worrying about which house he might be in. As if it was ever going to be anything else anyway.

The Hat chuckled. "Very well. Good luck, my boy."

Albus opened his eyes and met his brother's curious gaze, not even flinching at his dismayed look when the Hat roared its conclusion:

"SLYTHERIN!"