Chapter 6

Elle gazed out the window of the moving carriage, watching as Hogwarts loomed higher and higher above her head. It was such an odd feeling, coming back through those gates, after everything that had happened in the last two years.

"It's good to be back" Rose sighed. "Mhhm" Elle hummed in response, preoccupied in trying to describe how she felt at Hogwarts. It wasn't home, not really. But nowhere else felt like home either.

Isidre looked out past her shoulder with interest. Elle could see the furrow in his brow, made harsher by the shadows of the carriage. Clearly, he had mixed feelings about the castle was well. Albus was the only one who didn't take in the view – he was too busy jiggling his knee and muttering curses. Scorpius hadn't sat with them on the train.

Elle knew the whole story, since Albus had quickly filled them in on his adventure in Knockturn Alley, huddling under the shade of the apple orchard near the burrow. She, however, didn't think much of what had been told. So what if Scorpius's father had gone to the bar with a couple of old friends? Albus and Scorpius had managed to only glimpse the room and its inhabitants before they had been interrupted. The memory of the previous year and the assumptions they had made around Goyle were still fresh in her memory. She was not eager to make that mistake again.

Finally annoyed to the point of intervening, Elle forcefully rested her hand on Albus's knee, bringing the shaking to a stop. Albus glared at her. "Look. If it's really bothering him, I can ask your dad if he's involved… he promised me he wouldn't lie to me again." Albus seemed to think over what Elle had said, before nodding slowly.

Elle sighed. She knew what Albus was like when he got in moods like this – a nod was actually a pretty good outcome in the conversation. Expecting a full sentence, like 'that's a great idea Elle, thanks' was truly asking too much.

Isidre, who had been filled in on Albus's story on the train ride, cleared his throat. "Are you sure…" he started. Misinterpreting what he meant, Elle interrupted, assuring him that Mr. Potter would tell her the truth if they asked. Isidre blushed and nodded. The extra colour to his face made his scar stand out.

Elle shivered. She knew it wasn't his fault, but the scar made the bile rise up in Elle's throat. All she could think about was the cruel flash of her father's wand, and Isidre's cry of pain. Inevitably, when she remembered that, the image that flashed up next in her mind was that of her mother, disappearing in a blur of movement, her father dragging her through time and space.

The carriage rocked to a stop and the small troupe dismounted. Sam and Ruth, who had been in the carriage in front of them, waved them over. Albus, though unsuccessful due to his height, was trying to crane his neck over the crowds to spot Scorpius.

"You think about your mum, when you see my face" Isidre said, speaking in a low but matter-of-fact voice as the students made their way towards the great hall. Elle looked desperately at Albus, who was standing next to her, but the combination of the boy's preoccupation and the cacophony of the crow around them had made Isidre's words audible only to her.

Elle looked guiltily at Isidre, who had brought a hand up, his index finger lightly tracing the ugly line of raised red skin under his eye. Maybe it was the crowd around her, and how out of place she felt in its cheery air. Or maybe it was the ennui she felt, hard to place a finger on, but definitely present in the shadows of Hogwarts castle, but Elle found the courage to say to Isidre what she had avoided in her letters the entire summer.

"Do you think she's dead?" The was a pause as a diving fanged frisbee caused a group of second year girls in front of them the shriek. Peeves flew overheard, cackling. He had clearly thrown the toy. Elle waited until the commotion had died down enough for her to speak without yelling. "Do you think that he would kill her?"

They had entered the dining hall by the time Isidre spoke. Elle was afraid to look at him. "I don't know." Elle sighed. "I don't know how he thinks. But Elle –" Elle forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were a warm brown, and they shone in the soft candlelight. "I think he thinks it's you. He thinks you're the heir."

Ruth tugged on Elle's sleeve, pulling her towards the Ravenclaw table. It was the night of the sorting ceremony – they couldn't sit all together. Isidre was being pulled in the opposite direction by Sam, towards the Hufflepuffs. The moment to reply was lost, and soon the sorting ceremony began.

Albus was in a truly foul mood, which was not improved by his brother harshly yanking him by the arm. Albus turned because he had no choice (his brother was stronger than he was), not because he wanted to.

"You have to congratulate her" James said, his face stony. Albus returned his brother's expression. "She got sorted into Gryffindor. It's not a test. She didn't do anything impressive. Mum and Dad will tell them that they're proud of her. What does she care what I think?" The anxiety that gnawing at Albus's stomach, based on the fact that Scorpius had chosen to sit next to the Bloody Barron instead of Albus at the banquet, and having the "pleasure" of watching his little sister take a seat at the Gryffindor table (to thunderous applause) had combined terribly in Albus's head, so that his blood ran hot, and he didn't care what he said to his brother. He just needed James to let him go.

"Don't be a git" James warned, pulling his fist tighter, and Albus winced at the pain. His brother eased off at his expression but didn't let go. Albus couldn't help but stare at the shiny Quidditch Captain badge pinned to his robes.

It was true that he had said, back in Diagon Alley, that it was okay for his brother to wear the badge. Or at least, that he didn't have to hide it around him. But everything was easier in the summer. It was easier to be James's brother in the summer, when he stopped running his fingers through his hair and ditched the convivial airs he always put on around other people. He stopped being James Potter, the effortlessly funny and popular Quidditch star, and just became James, his brother, who enjoyed muggle fantasy books and who bickered with him on who had to clean the dishes.

But as soon as James walked through the Hogwarts doors, he stopped being Albus's brother, or at least that stopped being all that he was. And now, Lily, with her shock of fiery red hair and the personality to match, was going doing the same road. There were two Potters in Gryffindor. And based on how James was drilling Lily all summer, in the next few years there would be two Potters on the Quidditch team.

Two Potters in crimson and gold. Two Potters streaking down the Quidditch pitch side by side. Two Potters with top marks. Two Potters with a crowd of friends, the ones who did the school corridor hexing, not the ones who got hexed. Two perfect Potters. And Albus.

"She'll be worried about you tonight" James warned, still gripping Albus's sleeve. "Sorry I'm here to spoil the fun. Ruining everyone's excitement just by existing" Albus sneered. He tried to tug out of James' grasp, but his brother held firm. "Diffindo" Albus said calmly, aiming across his brother's knuckles.

Albus knew that the cutting spell he had used only worked on non-living surfaces. It didn't cut through the skin, at least. But it still stung like you'd been whipped by nettles. The pain was enough to make his brother release him. Albus seized the moment and melted into the bustling crowd, losing his brother in the chaos of every student trying to make their way to bed.

James' words were still ringing in his ears. He hated the fact that everyone in his family, if anything good happened to them, their first thought would be 'how should I tell Albus'. 'How should I tell the family disappointment about my great achievement without making him feel like utter rubbish.' Tears pricked the back of Albus's eyes, but he shook them away hastily. He couldn't cry here, in the middle of the crowded corridor.

All he really wanted to do was talk to Scorpius. He'd lost the blonde boy's head, which he had been following through the crowd, when James had interrupted him. But it wasn't hard to spot it again – it was so pale that it was bright and stuck out like a beacon among the masses of bodies.

To his surprise, Scorpius did not make his way towards the Slytherin dungeons. Bobbing and weaving his way through the busy corridors, Scorpius made his way quickly out of the crowd and into the deserted third floor corridor.

It was considerably harder for Albus to fight the flow of bodies, and it was several minutes before he managed to make the same turn into the quiet hallway. Scorpius was nowhere to be found. Albus cursed, not bothering to keep it under his breath, and started checking classrooms. He found Scorpius in the last one.

"Can't you take a hint" Scorpius said crossly as soon as Albus had opened the door. Albus wasn't used to Scorpius speaking to him that way, and almost took his advice and turned back around. But there was also an unfamiliar stuffy quality to Scorpius' voice that made Albus think that he might have been crying.

The compromise was that Albus didn't approach the boy where he sat in the windowsill but did not retreat either. It was quiet for a few moments. Albus shifted uncomfortably on his feet. It wasn't usually like this – Scorpius was usually the one that did the talking, the one that made him feel better. It struck Albus that Scorpius, while he shared things that upset him, was rarely ever visibly upset.

"If you're really worried about your dad, Elle can ask my dad…" Albus started finally, trailing off when he noticed Scorpius's angry face. There was silence again.

This time Scorpius spoke first. "You're upset" he observed. Albus bit back his first retort, which may have involved a pot and a kettle. Instead he nodded, hoping that this would be the start of the conversation where Albus could magically figure out what was bothering Scorpius and he could find the right words to make him feel better.

"Let me guess" Scorpius said bitterly, "you're feeling shit again, because your sister's a Gryffindor and your brother's a Gryffindor, and you're just a lousy Slytherin." Scorpius's voice warbled.

Albus really didn't know where Scorpius was going with this, and perhaps it was less eloquently stated than usual, but as always, his friend had got the gist of it. Albus nodded. "Bit shit, to be fair." Scorpius laughed, but the sound was hollow. There was anger there, muffled by tears.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Albus was completely lost in the conversation, so he nodded, despite knowing it was probably the wrong answer. "You hate yourself because you're in Slytherin. You've never said it, not outright, but that's how you feel."

Albus felt a weird constriction in his throat. It was almost like he'd lost his voice. It was true, he'd never said it out loud. But if he was being very honest with himself, wasn't that how he truly felt? "Say it" Scorpius demanded.

"I… I guess you're right" Albus conceded. "And what" Scorpius replied, his voice breaking so the last word came out high and shrill, "what then, do you think about me?"

Albus didn't understand at first. His confusion was clear enough on his face that Scorpius elaborated. "I'm in Slytherin too."

"Oh come on, Scor, you know it's different. I'm a Po-" Albus cut himself off abruptly. A chill of horror crept up his back as he realized the way his words could be interpreted. Scorpius picked up on it immediately.

"You're a Potter. You're supposed to be good. I'm a Malfoy – I deserve to be a slimy Slytherin. Is that right?" Albus's mind reeled, trying to find a way to save the conversation. "It's not what I meant! It's just…" Albus trailed off, trying to find the words. Scorpius huffed, but the longer the silence dragged on the more Albus panicked and the less he could form a coherent thought, let alone decide what to say.

"I hate myself" Albus finally burst out when Scorpius was already halfway to the door. "I don't hate you." Scorpius turned with tears in his eyes. "Not. Good. Enough."

The slam of the door echoed in the now empty room.