The first thing Albus saw when he walked into the great hall, was his brother surrounded by friends, laughing. James caught his eye, grinned, then turned away.
The second thing he saw was a head of bright yellow hair, Teddy, with his Head Boy badge on, craning his neck until he saw Albus. He stood, but the boy shook his head frantically. He got enough stares without talking to Teddy, the boy surrounded with rumours.
The third thing he saw was the many teachers he already knew well, smiling at him and the others as they walked down to the Sorting Hat.
Names were called out. Houses were cried out. Cheers and laughter, hugs and celebration.
A strange hush fell over the room as the boy stumbled up to the hat. He lifted it and turned, seeing his brother wink at him before it fell over his eyes.
Silence. It felt like he could be alone in the world, the Great Hall forgotten as the hat rippled.
‘Hmmm.’ the voice said into his ear. ‘I remember your father, Albus Potter, and I remember what I said to him. And I will say the same for you. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage…not a bad mind either. And a nice thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?’
It fell silent, waiting for an answer that Albus could not give. He did not know where he belonged. He never had. He was not like his brother, was not like Teddy. Was not smart or brave. He was just Albus.
‘Hmmm.’ The hat said again after minutes of agonising silence. ‘If you’re sure, better be….SLYTHERIN.’
That last word was shouted out to the room, yet Albus could not hear a sound. He ripped the hat off to meet the stares of silent shock. Of course, of course they were shocked, when the son of the Hero of Hogwarts was in the house that spawned the losers.
But instead of running, fleeing like his mind told him too, he stood, his fathers words from the train station echoing in his ears. And he made his way down to the table covered in green, his head high, his hands shaking. A boy with a mop of white-blonde hair looked up at him and grinned, shuffling over to he could sit.
And while the rest of the room watched still in silence, the Slytherins narrowed their eyes, raised their chins, and cheered the new addition to their family. Each of them had felt the outcast, felt the scars of the old type of Slytherin. Each of them knew what it was like to hear that word, the one that so many thought meant ‘evil.’
They would not let Albus know of them. He was one of theirs now.
After a moment, the teacher coughed and called out the next name, and Albus was forgotten.
Days passed, and though there were whispers and side glances and laughter he knew was about him, he had hopes it would die down. His brother had fitted in perfectly, no one ever brought up who he was. But not a day when by without someone mentioning his father around him, mentioning the war that his parents never talked about.
‘Potter!’ A voice called out to him one day. ‘Hey, Potter!’ He paused where he was, in a corridor, his arms full of books, to see three tall sixth years striding towards him, one with a red tie, two with blue. He didn’t trust the looks on their faces.
And he was right not too.
‘Should we even call you that?’ The Gryffindor asked, smirking as he knocked the books out of Albus’ hands and onto the floor. ‘I mean, you, a Potter? Look at yourself. Were you some orphan that they took pity on? Passing you off as a Potter, when they should have known here we would find out the truth.’ He sneered as the other two laughed. ‘You are no better than the scum that tried to take us over all those years ago. He was a liar too, but a better one than you. We will just have to stop you before you can do anything else. All Slytherins are unnatural, but you are the worst.’
The three took out their wands and Albus started backing away. One step, two steps, three.
‘Scared, Potter?’ One of them taunted. He didn’t bother to reply to that- of course he was, when what could a first year do to protect themselves?
Another step, another. All he needed to do was get to the corner then run. But then-
He had never been so relieved to hear his brother’s voice.
‘What’s going on?’ James stepped forward, his eyes assessing the situation quickly. Then his eyes narrowed as anger crossed his face.
Gryffindor. Brave. Nothing was braver than a third year standing up to three sixth years.
What was Albus next to him but a coward, a fake. A Slytherin.
‘You will leave my brother alone.’ James’ normally light voice was filled with fury. ‘Or I will tell my father, my uncle, Profesor Longbottom and every other adult I know who fought in the war to come up and remind you why they won. Because of love and friendship, not hate. Slytherins died at the sides of Gryffindors back then, fighting to stop idiots like you.’ He took a step forward, and Albus wondered if there was a difference between bravery and stupidity. ‘Leave him alone, or I will make you.’
Anyone else, and the older students would have laughed. But James Sirius Potter, son of Harry Potter, Hero of Hogwarts? They fled.
‘Alby.’ James took a step towards him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘You think its wonderful?’ Albus didn’t know where the anger had come from. He didn’t care. ‘That need protecting by you? That people laugh at me because I wear green, the colour of everything they think dad hates? I don’t want your protection! I don’t want any of this!’
He pushed past his brother and ran down the corridor. His father had been wrong. It did matter that he was a Slytherin. He was named after two of the bravest men, yet he was nothing.
He was not his fathers son.