Chapter 3 : Chapter 2
| ||Rating: 12+||Chapter Reviews: 1|
Background: Font color:
Famous Harry Potter.
Albus laughed, bitterly. He had thought it would be so cool to go to school with everyone knowing he was Harry Potters son. At first it had been true. On the Hogwarts Express there were loads of people all wanting to ask questions and some of them even claimed their parents had known his dad. Then the sorting had happened. He had been sitting under that ugly hat for what seemed like forever. When it was finally declared that he would go to “Slytherin!” there had hardly been a sound of response. A few of the Slytherin students had clapped and jeered but from the rest of the hall came stunned silence before a cascade of venomous whispers fell upon him.
“He’s him! The Potter kid.”
“His whole family is in Gryffindor, are they not?”
“Someone told me his middle name is Severus.”
“Like the death eater?”
“The one who killed the headmaster of this school.”
“No way! Creepy.”
None of them knew, he realised. His dad had told him the story behind his names. Everyone knew that Albus Dumbledore had been a great man. Not many people knew the truth about Severus Snape although his father had spoke about him a lot to the wizarding world before any of them were born. It seemed that his fellow students knew more about the shady aspects of Snape’s character than the good. Or else they just ignored it for better storytelling. Whatever the reason, Albus found himself isolated. A few Slytherins would speak to him but most gave up when they realised that the others hated anything Potter. Some had distant family who had been Dark Wizards in the past and who had lost everything when Harry Potter killed Lord Voldemort. Outside of his Slytherin the other houses either despised of were wary of him for simply being one of them. It delighted all of them to find that Albus was a clumsy student, who cast every spell with disastrously bad results, managed to raise his broomstick a few inches off the ground before crashing into it and constantly got lost in the winding maze of Hogwarts corridors. The Professors were not all too sympathetic either. Most were frustrated with his clumsiness and inability to master even the simplest spell. Professor Longbottom was always kind to him but that was just because he was friend with his dad.
And now he was going back.
He groaned and hugged his knees up to his chin so he could hide his face against them. That was were James found him a few moments later.
“Hey little brother. If you’re trying to hide you might want to get an invisibility cloak. I can still see you although I can’t see your face which is a massive improvement.”
Albus glared at his older brother as he tossed himself down on the opposite seats.
“Go away,” he demanded.
“Make me,” James grinned easily. He wore his wand behind his ear and Albus couldn’t be too sure he wouldn’t use it. His brother was always doing stupid things.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re alright. Your wellbeing does concern me so.”
“You sound like dad,” Albus muttered, bitterly.
“And you look like him. Together we represent the good and bad sides of Harry Potter. Just a shame you never inherited any of the good stuff.”
“If your stupid head gets any bigger you’ll look even less like dad,” Albus retorted, causing a roar of laughter from James.
“That was pretty good little brother. But even with a massive head I still wont look as ugly as you.”
James did as he was told, laughing all the way. Before Albus could raise to slam the door closed again, another boy, already in Hogwarts robes appeared in the frame.
“I heard shouting,” Scorpius Malfoy said. He had three books under one arm and The Daily Prophet in the other. Albus considered telling him to mind his own business and go away but hesitated too long. Scorpius came into the compartment and sat himself down, placing the books next to him.
Just as Albus’s name had brought him all manners of attention, Scorpius had received nothing but praise from their fellow Slytherins thanks to his parents and grandparents. The Malfoys were revered in house Slytherin with every student in Hogwarts aware of their ties to Dark Magic. Before Albus was sorted he had watched Scorpius walk, straight backed to the front of the hall and remembered all the bad things his uncle Ron had to say about they Malfoys. The hat had been on his head a long time too, but when Scorpius was declared a Slytherin there was a great cheer from that side of the hall and the traditional groans from the other tables. As the days passed and they had more and more lessons, Scorpius excelled in almost everything. He was a smart student and wand work came relatively easy to him with some study. Other students always greeted him and welcomed him into their ranks despite the fact that he showed none of the dark traits that was associated with his house. Scorpius was confident in class but shy in socialising. He fumbled his words and spent most of his time, more often that not, in the library. Albus had been a little disappointed. He had heard all about his fathers discord with Scorpius’s dad when they were at school and had thought he could win a few friends by having his own “good vs evil” fight. Scorpius had done nothing to warrant any kind of confrontation, however, and was, in fact, the only person to approach Albus in a positive way. He was rather irritating in that respect. No matter how many times Albus told him he wasn’t interested in friends, Scorpius continued to sit with him at meals and in classes when he could. He even helped him up the first time he crashed his broomstick into the ground.
“Where you fighting already?” Scorpius asked as he unfurled his Daily Prophet.
“It was nothing,” Albus retorted, finally closing the door and throwing himself down into his seat.
“It was a loud nothing,” Scorpius said as he flipped through the pages of his newspaper. “You didn’t write to me in the summer.”
“I told you you could.”
Albus rolled his eyes.
“I know. I didn’t have anything to say to you.”
“Really? How was your summer?”
“Mine was too. My mother’s really sick.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Albus asked, in spite of himself. Scorpius had a strange way of making him talk even when he didn’t want to.
“St Mungo’s can’t tell for sure. There was always a rumour in the family that an ancestor was cursed and the curse passes down a few generations. They think it may have been passed to her.”
Albus was stunned into silence for a moment as Scorpius continued to read the Daily Prophet. Finally Albus let out a low whistle.
“I didn’t know that could happen,” he managed, feebly.
“It is rare,” Scorpius admitted. He stared at the paper a while longer before putting it down on his knees. “My father is really messed up over it. He thinks she’s going to die, I think.”
“That’s…awful,” Albus said, lamely.
Scorpius smiled, sadly.
“Yeah it is…So is having a name like Scorpius though. I guess everything is just awful in my family.”
They both laughed and lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“I’m sorry Scorpius,” Albus said, finally. “I’m sorry that I didn’t write and…I’m sorry about…you know…your mum.”
“Thanks, Albus,” Scorpius said, sincerely. “I’m sorry your summer was awful, too.”“It was…nothing,” Albus said, realising the truth of it as he said it. “I mean, not compared to yours, anyway.”
Scorpius nodded, knowingly and disappeared behind his newspaper again. They remained that way for the rest of the journey. Albus stared forlornly out the window at the passing scenery and Scorpius switched to one of his books when he was done with the paper. The tea-trolley witch came and went and they ate in silence. Only when the train began to pull into the station did Scorpius gather up his books and newspaper.
“Well, I’ll see you up at the castle if you like?” he said.
Albus shifted, stubbornly, in his seat.
“Maybe,” he conceded. “I guess…maybe. I usually like to sit alone.”
“Me too. We suit each other well,” Scorpius smiled, oblivious to the rebuff. “Don’t forget to change into your robes!” He turned and left.
Albus looked down at the faded jeans and t-shirt he still wore. Cursing, he began to untangle a set of robes from the mess of his trunk as the station slowed into the station.
Here we go again, he thought, glumly.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories