Chapter Text
Albus Potter stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express as the station faded from sight, his apprehension gone.
I’ll be in Gryffindor, he thought. I’m going to be in Gryffindor.
The thought gave him heart as he watched the landscape fly past him. A couple more first-years, both nervous-looking and silent, filtered in, taking the seats near him, but they didn’t talk either. Rose, sitting across from him, was buried in a copy of Hogwarts, A History.
I can choose, he thought again. Now that he knew that, he could be excited about going to Hogwarts. It was only a matter of hours before the Sorting Hat would be placed on his head and he could tell it where he wanted to go.
The trolley came by, and although Ginny had given him a small bag full of Galleons and Sickles to take with him, he didn’t get anything; he was too excited, thinking about the coming feast. James had eaten so much at the first banquet that he had ended up sick, at least according to John Lupin; James himself would never admit to as much.
“What are you going to do if you’re in Slytherin?”
Albus turned to see his older brother in the doorway; it was as if thinking about him had made him appear. James had already changed into his Hogwarts robes; he had thrust his chest forward so the scarlet and gold lion was prominently displayed. Standing next to him were several friends of his. Albus knew all of them quite well: Romulus Lupin, the fourth-oldest of the Lupins and the youngest who was at Hogwarts, and Fabian and Gideon Weasley, two of Al’s cousins. It seemed that James had told his friends why Albus was so nervous: Romulus’s hair was flaming scarlet and gold, and both Fabian and Gideon were wearing their Gryffindor robes. Fabian had made an attempt to Charm the lion emblem so it roared, but he hadn’t done it very well; it sounded more like the lion was squeaking.
“We’d have to disown you, you know,” James said casually, sliding into the seat opposite Albus; the two first-years he didn’t know, seeing the confident gang of second-years, had disappeared from sight, leaving only Al and Rose in the compartment. Al half-wished he could follow the other first-years out. “Everyone we know’s been in Gryffindor. All of us: Teddy, Victoire, Missy, John, Artie—”
“Not everyone,” Rose said, looking up from a thick book. “You ought to know better.” She looked to Romulus. “You’re one to talk, Rommy. Your mum was in Hufflepuff.”
“Well, all the rest of my family’s been Gryffindor,” Rommy said. “Dad, me, Teddy, Missy, and John. And I’ll bet when Trina and Thecla get here next year, they’ll be Gryffindors too.”
“I’ll bet your parents said they didn’t care where you got Sorted, though.”
Romulus made a face. “Dad said he didn’t care even if we were Sorted into Slytherin, but I know he didn’t mean it. Mum said she’d kill us if we got Slytherin, although you should’ve seen the look Dad gave her when she said it. After that, she told us she didn’t care, but you know they didn’t mean it. I mean, she’s got Slytherin relatives, so you think she’d know.”
James raised his eyebrows at Albus. “Everyone we go to school with is in Gryffindor. What’re you going to do if you’re in Slytherin?”
Albus bit his lip, flinching a little, but then he remembered what his father had said. Feeling a new surge of confidence, he said, “I won’t be in Slytherin. I’ll tell it I don’t want to be there, and it won’t put me there.”
“And how do you know? The Sorting Hat tells you where you’re going to go – you don’t get to pick.”
“He’s right, Al,” Rose said. “Do you think anyone would be Sorted into Slytherin if they had the choice?”
“Wait,” James said, springing to his feet; he was looking outside the compartment. “I think I see someone who would.” He darted outside. “Oi! You! Come here!”
A moment later, he had reappeared, trailed by a terrified-looking first-year.
“What House would you be in if you had the choice?” James asked. There was a sharp look on his face; Al didn’t like it. It was the look James got whenever he was in the mood to make fun of Albus.
Rose’s eyes narrowed; it was clear she recognized the boy, although Albus himself didn’t. He had glimpsed him at the train station, and thought his father might have said something about him, but couldn’t remember what; his memories of King’s Cross were a blur, light and noise and the sound of the train, but Albus hadn’t been thinking about anything except Hogwarts and hadn’t paid attention; instead, his mind had been filled only with the desperate thought, Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin.
“My – my parents were both in Slytherin,” the other first-year stammered, looking fearfully up at James.
Both Fabian and Gideon also seemed to have recognized the first-year, and were looking at him unpleasantly. “My dad said your dad was a Death Eater,” Fabian said. “That he supported You-Know-Who during the war.”
The boy’s mouth opened and closed again.
“Our Uncle Bill got killed in the war by a Death Eater,” James said. “And both Fabian and Gideon’s dads got their ears cut off – Dark Magic.”
Albus had heard both the stories of how his Uncles Fred and George had each lost an ear during the war: George’s had been cut off by his own namesake; Severus Snape had accidentally cut off George’s ear while trying to save Teddy’s dad from a Death Eater. “A worthy sacrifice,” his Uncle George had said. His Uncle Fred had lost his in the Battle of Hogwarts, although he claimed that his only regret was that it couldn’t have been his other ear, so he and Uncle George could have been identical again. Albus had enough trouble telling them apart as it was.
“My – he—” the other boy stammered. His pointed face was pale with fear. Albus couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; he was used to James picking on him, but seeing James picking on someone else was another matter entirely.
But he couldn’t make James stop. He knew that; he couldn’t stop James from teasing him, let alone James when he got teamed up with all his friends. So he squirmed and tried to sink into his seat, trying to ignore James and this boy, hoping that if he ignored them James would stop and let the other boy go too.
“Slytherin is where all the Death Eaters came from,” James proclaimed. “And you still want to be in Slytherin?”
“I – I’m not a – one of them—” The boy looked as if he was going to be ill.
“Better stand back, James,” Fabian said.
“Yeah, you don’t want him to be sick on your shoes,” Gideon added.
Albus slid lower in his seat, wishing he could Vanish himself into nothingness.
Rose put down her book. “Stop it,” she said, her voice wavering. She looked very clearly bothered by what they were doing, but also sounded more than a little frightened. She didn’t usually stand up to James, either.
“What – going to get friendly with the pure-blood?” James sneered.
“Just because someone’s a pure-blood doesn’t mean they’re horrible,” she said. “Unless you want to say that about Granddad and Grandma Weasley – or your Granddad Potter, for that matter.” She began to tick people off on her fingers. “Or Professor Longbottom, or my dad, or your Gran Tonks, Rommy, or—”
“All right, all right!” snapped James. “But none of them were in Slytherin.”
The pale-faced boy was edging towards the door of the compartment, clearly hoping for an escape. Fabian and Gideon moved swiftly in front of him, blocking the exit.
Rose was on her feet, hands on her hips. “Let him go, James. All of you. Or do you want me to tell your parents?”
Fabian and Gideon shrugged. “Don’t think they would mind, actually,” Fabian said.
“Yeah, Dad told me to give the Slytherins hell,” Gideon agreed.
Romulus and James, however, looked distinctly uncomfortable at Rose’s threat. “As soon as we get to Hogwarts, I’ll send owls to both your dads,” she said. “Do you really think that Remus would be happy to hear that you’re picking on first-years, Rommy? Or that Uncle Harry would be happy if he hears you’re tormenting pure-blooded first-years, James?”
“You wouldn’t, Rosie,” James said, but Rommy Lupin looked ready to back down.
“I would too,” she said. Albus looked at his cousin admiringly, wishing he had as much courage as she did.
She’ll be in Gryffindor for sure, he thought. He knew she wouldn’t have to ask the Sorting Hat for anything; it would probably shout out its decision before it even touched her head.
“I’ll tell Missy as soon as we get there,” she said. “She’s a prefect; she’ll keep an eye on both of you.”
Rommy made a face. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh yes I would,” she said. She looked over to Fabian and Gideon. “No matter what horrible tricks you play on me. I know your dads gave you plenty of stuff to use.”
“Courtesy of the Weird-Ear Weasleys,” Gideon acknowledged. “Top-notch Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes products, all to show – and use on – everyone else.”
“Well, I don’t care if I spend the first half of the year sprouting feathers or a tail or anything else. Let him go!”
Albus relaxed. They would let the other boy go; everything would be over, and James would let him alone. He could deal with the taunts about Slytherin; he could live with everything else if they would only let the other boy go. Whoever he was, he didn’t deserve this.
“Well,” James said, obviously trying to save face, “we could just let him off with a warning, couldn’t we?”
Rommy nodded immediately; Rose’s threat had apparently worked on him. Fabian and Gideon looked a little more reluctant, but Fabian finally said, “I guess you could just let him off with a jinx of some sort—”
James raised his wand, but Rose was quicker. Reaching into her robes, she dropped something; there was a bang and a flash, and unintelligible shouts from both Rose and James. Before Albus could close his eyes, he thought that he saw a jet of greenish-black light fly through the air, and wondered if James had gotten off his jinx anyway.
When the air cleared, Rose and the frightened boy were both gone. Romulus, Gideon, and Fabian were all coughing; Albus didn’t immediately see James, and wondered if his older brother had gone chasing after Rose and the other boy.
He heard a groan, and realized with a start that his older brother was lying on the floor. It was only when he looked at his brother’s face that he realized the jinx hadn’t come from James’s wand, but instead had been aimed at him: his face, neck, and arms were covered in little green scales. It looked remarkably like Rose had turned his skin into that of a snake’s.
“Don’t know if she got you or he did,” Fabian said.
“Maybe both,” Gideon concurred. “Can’t tell what curse it was.”
“It was her,” James growled. “He was too scared to do anything.”
Fabian stood back, scrutinizing the effect with a look that was grudgingly admiring. “I have to say she’s got a good, healthy sense of revenge.”
“Though maybe not of self-preservation,” Gideon added, grinning; seeing the anger on James’s face, though, the grin faded a little.
Fabian was still visibly impressed by the curse; it looked very much like he was trying to figure out how to replicate the effect. Albus hoped he didn’t; otherwise, there was a pretty good chance he might spend his first year looking like a snake, even if he wasn’t in Slytherin.
James’s friends were still talking about the curse. “You look like you could be a baby basilisk, James.”
“If I was a basilisk, I could’ve killed her by looking at her.”
“She can’t have had much practice.”
“Who knows? Mum taught me a few things before I left last year – a couple good jinxes for bullies is what she said,” Romulus said. “Your Aunt Hermione might’ve let her have some practice.”
“Using our own products against us,” Fabian grumbled. “She definitely set off the Decoy Detonator.”
“Decoy Detonator? Thought that was the Bangflash Bomb for sure, with the light. And it didn’t scuttle away like a Detonator should,” Gideon argued.
“The door was closed. It wouldn’t have been able to—”
“Would someone just do the counterjinx?” James snarled.
“Which one, mate? If we don’t know which one she used—” Fabian began, but Rommy bit his lip, concentrating, and waved his wand. Albus found himself watching from between his fingers: he half-wanted it to go wrong, but didn’t really want to see James’s reaction if it did.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Rommy’s efforts worked; seconds later, extending a hand, Rommy Lupin helped a de-scaled James to his feet.
James looked grudgingly at his little brother. “Looks like you’re not the one who might be in Slytherin. I never thought little Rosie would be more of a pure-blood-loving prat than you, Al, but—”
Albus wasn’t listening to his brother. James had lost all interest in tormenting him, though, and had already stormed out of the compartment. Al knew that his brother would probably be looking to have some sort of revenge on their cousin, and he hoped that Rose could find some sort of hiding place on the train that was halfway decent.
Once his feelings of relief gradually died away as he realized James and his friends weren’t coming back to torment him, he felt another, far more unpleasant feeling rising up in his stomach, a sick, unhappy sensation of guilt.
I should have done something, he thought. Rose had stood up for the boy; she had kept James from jinxing him, even though it probably meant that James and his friends would probably be slipping Canary Creams into her meals for the next week straight. Albus Potter hadn’t had that courage.
I don’t deserve to be in Gryffindor, he thought miserably, sinking down into his seat. He could ask the Sorting Hat, but was it possible that it would refuse?
It listened to Dad, he thought, but he knew that was different: His father was the bravest man he knew. Harry Potter was never scared of anything; comparing himself to his father, Al felt more cowardly than ever.
What if it tells me I’m not brave enough? He knew he wasn’t. What would the Hat say to him? Would it humiliate him in front of the whole school?
I wish I’d said something, he thought as the train rolled on, dragging him ever closer to Hogwarts. Why didn’t I say something?