Albus, Rose, and Scorpius attended the first Quidditch match of the year as a group. The three dressed up in heavy robes and gloves and even hand-made Gryffindor scarves with their names at the bottom, courtesy of Rose's mother.

"James is nervous," Al said at breakfast that morning, shoveling eggs into his mouth. Rose disdainfully handed him a napkin as ketchup dribbled down his chin. He pushed the napkin out of her hand and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Scorpius snickered and Rose pinched him on the ear. "Slytherin's got a new seeker. A first year, too. But he's supposed to be really good."

"Like your dad," Rose pointed out. "I haven't seen James play, but given his parentage…"

"I have," Al said miserably. "He got all the good genes." Al poked at his food with his fork, and the laid it next to his plate. Their mandatory flying lessons had been disasterous for Albus. He had been one of the last people to command his broom, and he turned out to be rather slow on a broom. Scorpius, on the other hand, seemed to be a natural. But this wasn't a big surprise to him, because in the trophy room on the fifth floor, there was a photo of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. And right in front, in the center of the photo, was his father.

"He might be a good Quidditch player," Rose said softly, "But you're much better at school." She lowered her voice. "Plus, I think you might be your father's favorite." She straightened back up quickly as the Quidditch team lumbered towards the table, already clad in full gear.

James took a heavy seat next to his brother, his mouth set in a thin line. Beside him was his friend Wren, who also played Quidditch. James didn't say a word as he began to pile stacks of toast on his plate, not even when Scorpius started laughing at the absolutely ridiculous amount of bread before him.

"Good luck today, Potter," a voice said from behind Rose. Scorpius looked up to see the tall, unpleasant black boy he had encountered on his first day. The boy was wearing a thick emerald and silver uniform, and his silver eyes glinted mischievously. "From what I hear, you're going to need it."

"Shove off, Zabini," James laughed, swallowing a massive bite of toast. "I heard you cried your first practice, isn't that right? Threw a hissy fit when you couldn't find the snitch."

The Gryffindors chuckled appreciatively. Zabini's skin grew darker, but he pretended not to notice.

"What makes you think you'll win, Potter? Your blood-traitor parents haven't passed on their talents to you, only their filthy, useless genes."

The table gasped and began to whisper amongst themselves. Rose blanched, and James rose from his seat, his fists curled tightly. Wren grasped his arm and tried to pull him down. Then, someone put Zabini in his place. And it wasn't even James.

"You're surname's Zabini?" Scorpius rose from his seat and turned to face the boy who had been so rude to him on his first day. The boy sneered down at Scorpius, who sneered back. He had heard his father talk about the Zabini family, and his words hadn't been pleasant.

"Like your name is better?" Zabini asked, and cracked his neck.

"Well, yeah, it is," Scorpius said straight-out. "I don't have a grandmother who killed seven of her husbands, so she could collect their gold like a common whore, and a father who tried to commit fraud at Gringotts. I mean, that's what your name stands for, right?"

The table was silent for a moment, and then James let a small whistle out under his breath. Wren laughed, and Scorpius heard a few claps. Zabini glared so harshly at Scorpius, that he was sure Zabini was imagining cursing him into oblivion.

"At least I can live up to my family name," Zabini hissed, a nasty smile on his face. "I got into Slytherin. And you, well, you got put where those who have no talent go."

Scorpius honestly didn't mean to punch him. He wasn't even sure he was doing it, until he saw blood. But even then, when he saw Zabini stumble back, he did it again. And then, more Slytherins rushed over. A taller one, with shoulders like boulders, and an even taller one, that looked like a troll. But then, Albus was there too, and he was next to Scorpius, and he had kicked the trollish boy in the knees, and he fell over…

"Stop!" A voice yelled, and Scorpius was seized by the scruff of his neck. His feet left the ground and he found he was up in the air, and dangling next to him, was Albus, also being held by the scruff of his neck. Hagrid had grabbed both of them and pulled them away from the Slytherins. Zabini was lying on the floor, moaning, with a bloody nose and black eye, and the others were lying on the floor too, having been kicked in the knees and groins by Al. "Wha' are ye doin', Al?" Hagrid set Scorpius and Al down, and then pushed them towards the entrance to the Great Hall. "McGonagall's goin' to see ye abou' this. Get goin'. Ten points from Gryffindor."

And even though they had lost points from Gryffindor, as Al and Scorpius left the Great Hall, the Gryffindor table applauded them, and some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in too. James let out a hoot of laughter than echoed in Scorpius's ears. When Scorpius looked back, he could see Rose sitting at the table. She looked down at Zabini, and then violently shoved the bench back, right into his shins, so he doubled up in pain. Then, daintily, she scooted back in. Scorpius grinned.

The realization of his actions set in when Scorpius and Albus reached the Headmistress's office. Hagrid gave the Gargoyle the Password ("Dougal"), and then shoved Scorpius and Albus onto the revolving stairs.

"I'll go ge' her," he said roughly, but Scorpius didn't really think he was angry. "She'll be in the Teacher's lounge. Stay here, an' don't even think abou' leavin'." As the stairs began to revolve upwards, began to laugh.

"That was so cool," the boys chimed at the same time.

"I can't believe what he said about our parents," Albus remarked.

"Well, at least what I said about his family is true," Scorpius chuckled as the stairs stopped at an ornate door with a phoenix knocker. The door swung open at his knock, and Scorpius and Al stepped inside. Inside, the sun-lit room was hundreds, maybe even thousands of portraits. There were bookshelves, a telescope, and a cat was curled up on the desk, asleep. The chair behind the desk was empty, but the two portraits behind the desk were completely awake.

One of the portraits depicted a smiling, longhaired and long-bearded man. The other illustrated a rather unhappy looking man, with a big nose and hair that hung around his face like a curtain.

"Well, well, well," said the white-haired man, and folded his hands. He looked down over his half-moon glasses as Scorpius and Albus approached the desk. "What do we have here?"

The younger, black-haired man immediately looked down at Scorpius and Albus and froze. His eyes zeroed in on Albus, and then narrowed.

"Have you been fighting?" The dark haired man asked, his eyes traveling over Scorpius's unruly hair. Scorpius slicked his hair back.

"Not each other," Albus corrected. The dark haired man just stared at him, and the white-haired man attempted to look firm, but it looked to Scorpius like he might have been smiling.

"You're Harry's boy," he finally said, looking at Albus in wonderment.

"Yeah. I am." He squinted at the portrait. "But then…are you Dumbledore? You are, aren't you?"

"I hear we share a name," Dumbledore said to Al, beaming. The dark-haired man snorted. "But then again, don't you and Severus share a name as well?"

Albus looked at the dark-haired man, who stared back at him, just as tensely. The two of them didn't speak; they just stared at one another as if sizing each other up.

"What's your surname?" Scorpius asked, interrupting the staring match. He jutted out his chin a little. He recognized the dark-haired man, and whether it was from a portrait or an old photograph or elsewhere, he couldn't be sure. The man turned to look at Scorpius, and unless Scorpius was mistaken, the left corner of his mouth turned upwards just the slightest bit, the shadow of a smile.

"Snape."

It hit Scorpius like a train. His father and mother had always spoken highly of this man, who had saved their lives. And then, it hit him again. The ghost he had seen on his first night as a Gryffindor had also been the man in the portrait.

"You were my father's godfather," Scorpius blurted out, not looking away from the man. His face betrayed no emotion. "Draco Malfoy, do you remember-"

"Of course I remember," the man in the portrait, almost offended by the fact Scorpius thought he wouldn't remember. "I could tell you were his son the moment you walked in here. Same chin, same hair. The spitting image." The man looked back to Al, and wrinkled his nose the smallest bit. "The same with Potter's son. Same….same eyes."

The door to the office suddenly swung open. Headmistress McGonagall strode in her eyes blazing like a maniac.

"Potter! Malfoy!" She barked. For a moment, Scorpius thought she might yell at the pair of them, but she seemed at a loss for words as the pair stared at her. She opened and closed her mouth, and then let out a huff of air. "No more fighting. Ten more points from Gryffindor. And Malfoy, watch your mouth. No get going, I don't want to miss the first Quidditch match of the season."

Albus and Scorpius glanced at each other in disbelief, but then scrambled from the room, eager to head down to the pitch.

"So lucky!" Albus crowed as they ran down the stairs to the Great Hall. It was nearly empty, except for Rose, who was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. "I can't believe she let us off."

"Thank god for Quidditch," Scorpius said lightly. A few Gryffindor fifth years walked by and called out to him.

"Nice work earlier, Malfoy."

"Taught that little tosser, eh?"

The girl with them winked at Scorpius, and he felt himself blush. Rose suddenly grabbed Scorpius's scarf.

"Oh no," she moaned, yanking on it, tearing Scorpius's gaze away from the girl. "It's ripped." Albus tapped his foot impatiently and Rose gave him a withering look. "Go on then, Al. I'll fix it. We'll be there in a few minutes, I'm sure. Just save us seats, yeah?"

Scorpius nodded to Al, who quickly ran out the doors, pushing ahead of a group of Hufflepuffs.

"Sorry to make you wait," Rose apologized, pulling her wand out from her pocket. She bowed her vibrant head, and began to un-loop Scorpius's scarf from around his neck. "My mother said she was coming to the match, and she would be upset if it was already torn…"

"My mum would feel the same," Scorpius replied. Rose bit her lip, and slowly, she began to repair the damage in the scarf by pressing the tip of her wand to the torn stitches.

"Scorpius?"

"Yes?"

"What was it like for you, growing up?"

Scorpius wasn't sure what to say, he wasn't sure where this question had come from. But he didn't mind it either.

"Probably the same that it was for you, I'd imagine. Mostly. I didn't know any witches and wizards my age until I met you." Rose blinked and finished repairing his scarf. But Scorpius continued to talk, and they sunk down onto the first stair of the hall, ignoring the groups of people running around them, wearing rosettes and hats and the like. They talked about Scorpius's parents and his history. They talked about his desire to be in Slytherin, and how he was going to cope with being in Gryffindor. They talked for so long that they completely missed the match.

And even when all the Gryffindors came inside, a screaming, celebrating mass of red-and-gold, going over the incredible goals and James' amazing catch, Scorpius wasn't upset he missed the match. It felt good to finally get it all out, all of his worries and fears and apprehensions. And now, he could go on and enjoy Hogwarts. And as he and Rose stood, he glanced at her profile. She was serene and silent, though she smiled at the crowd. And Scorpius, in that moment, realized that the next six years were going to be enjoyable and do-able because of her, his rock.