James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

3. THE SORTING

"Y ou can't take ten points from Gryffindor before we even get to school!" James insisted, trotting to keep up with Merlin's massive stride. Albus followed, glancing back angrily.

"Deducting points from the offender's house is the preferred method of discipline at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," Merlin said distractedly. "I asked you to guard the Borley. And not to allow any magic to be used in its presence. Failing that, you were to at least point me in the direction of its escape. I'd not be fulfilling my duties as Headmaster if I didn't mete out some form of discipline for your complete disregard of my direction."

"But Scorpius did the magic!" James insisted, jumping in front of the Headmaster and forcing him to stop. "It's not my fault he's a hotheaded git! I did everything I could to stop him!"

Merlin was scanning the corridor slowly. "Did you truly do everything you could, Mr. Potter?"

James threw up his hands. "Well, I suppose I could have sat on Albus to prevent him from attacking the bloody loudmouth!"

Merlin nodded, and then looked down at James, giving him his full attention for the first time. "It is true, what they say, Mr. Potter: I come from a much different age. When I give instruction, I do not do so lightly. It will behoove you to remember that a lack of effort in carrying out those instructions goes much poorer with me than an excess of effort. Do you understand?"

James worked through the sentence in his head, nodding slightly. He glanced up at the Headmaster and shook his head.

"It means," Merlin replied slowly, "that I expect you to do everything within your power to carry out my requests. If sitting on your brother might have helped, then next time, I expect you to do exactly that. The Borley has escaped, and more importantly, your negligence has allowed it to gain power. It will not be as easy to transfix next time. And you should be aware that, up until a few minutes ago, it was relatively harmless."

Merlin's lowered brow and glittering eyes made the point very clearly. James still felt unjustly accused, but he nodded his understanding.

"What is it?" Albus asked. "This Borley thing."

Merlin turned away, half dismissing the boys. "They are a form of Shade: shadow creatures. They are purely magical beings, and as such, they feed on magic. They'll taunt young or foolish wizards into using magic on them so that they might feed and grow. When they are tiny, they are harmless. As they grow…"

James looked around the compartment, following Merlin. "What do they grow into?"

"I believe," Merlin said gravely, "that you call them 'Dementors'."

Both James and Albus knew about Dementors. James shuddered.

"I think I saw this same Borley a week ago, back at my grandparents' house," James commented. "And then later, at the eye doctor's. It made a horrible mess, but a few minutes later, when the doctor came into the room, the mess had vanished. Everything was back to normal. I thought I'd imagined it."

"You didn't imagine it," Merlin said, stopping at the end of the corridor and turning. "The Borleys come from a realm outside of history. They can manipulate tiny pockets of time, bunching minutes together like a wrinkle in a rug and then poking directly through them. You saw its actions, so you remembered them even after it leapt back in time and undid them."

Albus screwed up his face in concentration. He shook his head. "But why would it do that?"

"It's a defensive reflex," Merlin said curtly. "They use it to cover their tracks. It's somewhat akin to a squid squirting ink to confuse its enemy."

"Confused me all right," James nodded.

"So if you can't catch them using magic," Albus asked, "how do you catch them? What do you do with them after you, er, transfix them? You said you needed to go get something. Is it in that bag?"

"Please return to your compartment, boys," Merlin ordered, turning and opening his own compartment. He shouldered the large, black bag. "We will be arriving at the station soon. You should get into your robes."

"Yeah, but—" Albus began but was silenced by the closing of the compartment door. The windows were smoked, blocking any view of the interior.

"Well, that was educational," Albus commented as they retraced their steps back along the train's corridors.

James said nothing. He felt rankled by the way he'd been held responsible for the escape of the Borley. How could Merlin have blamed him and allowed Scorpius to get away without even a stern look? James had been looking forward to the start of the school year partly because he had a sort of rapport with Merlin, the new Headmaster. After all, James had been inadvertently responsible for the famous wizard's return from the distant past. Also, they had worked together at the end of the last term to thwart a cunning plot to cause a war between the Muggle and magical worlds. And yet, even before their arrival at Hogwarts, James seemed to have gotten on Merlin's bad side.

As he and Albus returned to their compartment, James remembered the words Rose had said at the beginning of their trip: a wizard as powerful as Merlin could be all the scarier because he's not evil but just selfish.

But of course that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Merlin wasn't selfish, just different. James knew Merlin as well as anyone did. He'd even been consulted about whether or not the famous wizard would be a good Headmaster. He wasn't dangerous. He was just from a much different time. Merlin had said so himself. He came from a much more serious, grave age. Not only was it important for James to remember that fact, it was important for him to help the rest of the students understand it as well.

By the time Albus yanked the door to their compartment open, it had begun to rain in earnest. The windows of the train were streaked and spattered with huge drops. Ralph was asleep on his seat with his tabloid open on his chest. Rose was buried in her book, barely noticing the brothers' return. And James was becoming rather certain that this year might not be quite as fun as he'd first thought.

As the light began to fade from the day and the rain finally abated, James, Albus, and Ralph dug their robes out of their satchels. Both James and Albus' robes were rather sadly wrinkled. Rose looked up from her book and clucked her tongue at them.

"Haven't you two ever learned how to fold your clothes?"

"Boys don't learn things like that," Albus said, trying to smooth out the front of his robe with his hands. "We learn cool things. Secret boy things that I'm not even allowed to tell you about. Girls get stuck learning how to pack clothes so their husbands look good when they go out to their jobs."

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Rose said, shaking her head sadly. "I only hope your sister is learning her lessons better than you did. The son of a famous woman Quidditch player should know better."

Ralph raised his eyebrows. "I think I know an Anti-Wrinkling Spell. You want me to try it out?"

"No thanks, Ralph," James said quickly, "no offense, but I still remember you burning a bald stripe on Victoire's head last year."

"That was a Disarming Spell," Ralph said defensively. "My wand is a little sensitive about those. The problem isn't getting them to work but keeping them from working too well."

"Hmm!" Rose said pointedly, "I wonder why that might be?"

"So you really tackled him, eh?" Ralph said to Albus, reverting to a former topic.

"Knocked him clean off his feet," James said, nudging his brother. "It was pretty good even if it did get me into trouble."

"You need to learn some self-control, Albus," Rose said, finally putting her book aside. "He may be hard to like, but you are at Hogwarts now. You can't go around tackling everyone who says something you don't like."

"Something I don't like?" Albus said, glaring at Rose. "Did you miss the part where he insulted our dead granddad? There's such a thing as honor, you know! I'll do it again if he so much as looks at me sideways."

"I didn't say you shouldn't retaliate, Albus," Rose said meaningfully. "I just said we're at Hogwarts now. You retaliate with magic."

"Yikes," James said, laughing a little nervously. "The apple really fell far from the tree with you, Rosie."

Rose looked hurt. "I may be my mum's daughter, but I'll have you remember that I'm a Weasley, too."

Albus grimaced. "Well, I can't do any real magic yet. Besides, it felt so good to knock him down."

Rose shot James a serious look. "Then I hope you're getting your bum in gear. Looks like you'll be spending a lot of the year sitting on your little brother."

"He's his own problem from now on," James said. "Besides, Scorpius deserved it. That stupid twit was trying to Stun Albus. His parents have been teaching him curses already. It's a good thing Albus has a good reach."

"Well, all I can say is I'm going to be doing some research on this Borley creature," Rose said as the train slowed, entering Hogsmeade station.

Albus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "You mean there's a magical creature you haven't learned about already?"

"Sounds like trouble to me," Ralph admitted. "If Merlin said the thing had turned dangerous, I'd guess it's definitely something to look out for."

James zipped his satchel and slipped it over his shoulders. "I just want to know why it's been following me around. Why'd it pick me?"

"Obviously, it thought it could trick you into using magic on it," Rose reasoned. "It almost worked too."

"That's why it ran away when you threatened it at the doctor's office," Ralph added, raising his eyebrows. "You said you told it you were a wizard, but that you didn't have your wand with you. It realized there was no point in making a mess if you weren't going to zap it, so it covered its tracks by jumping back a few minutes and undoing everything."

"Yeah, well, aren't you all brilliant?" James grumbled. "I'd like to see how you lot would've handled it if you'd been there. Besides, it was Scorpius and Albus that finally allowed the thing to get a little magical snack and turn all scary."

"Don't blame me," Albus said, still trying to press the wrinkles out of his robes with his hands. "If you'd have attacked Scorpius with me, you could've disarmed him before anything happened. I bet old Merlin would've approved of that."

A few minutes later, the train shuddered to a stop. All around there came the sound of opening doors, footsteps, and chattering, excited voices as the train's occupants filled the corridors, streaming toward the exits. James, Albus, Rose, and Ralph gathered their things and joined the throng.

As they climbed out onto the wet platform of Hogsmeade station, James caught sight of Hagrid standing under a nearby lamppost, barely fitting under it.

"First-years," he called in his great, gruff voice. "First-years, this way! The rest of yeh go an' find the carriages out front. If yeh don' know where to go, follow the ones that do. Step lively now."

James grabbed Albus' robe, stopping him.

"Hey," he said, quietly, "I mean it. Don't worry about the Sorting, little brother."

"I'm not, actually," Albus replied, shrugging. "I remembered something Dad told me back at platform nine and three-quarters."

James blinked. "Well, good. What'd he say?"

"He said that the Sorting Hat will take my wishes into account. He said that if I really don't want to, the Hat won't make me be a Slytherin."

"You, a Slytherin?" Scorpius' voice sneered behind them. James rolled his eyes. He should've known the little squid was the spying sort.

"Get away from us, Scorpius," Albus said, gritting his teeth.

"Or what?" the boy grinned. "Are you going to risk getting your brother into trouble again by rushing me? That only works once, Potter."

Albus nodded. "I'll do that and more if you don't watch yourself."

"That's why you'd never make it into Slytherin," Scorpius said airily, turning to walk away. "As you saw on the train, Slytherins fight with their brains and a wand. Your sort has to rely on brute force. But what do you expect from a son of Harry Potter?"

Albus tensed to lunge at Scorpius again, but James grabbed his shoulder. "Don't you dare go after him again, you dolt. That's just what he wants you to do."

"He's ragging on Dad!" Albus hissed.

"He's trying to provoke you. Save it for later. You've got the whole school year to hate him."

"That's right, Potter," Scorpius said as he turned back, still grinning. "Listen to your brother. He knows what happens when you go up against a Slytherin. Did he tell you what happened when he tried to steal the Slytherin Captain's Quidditch broom last year? Nasty business, that. I hear you ended up facedown in the mud."

James let go of Albus' shoulder, his face flushing with anger. "You just want to watch it, Malfoy. We're not afraid of the Slytherins."

"Then you really are as foolish as you look," Scorpius said, his grin vanishing. "A Malfoy is back in the House of Slytherin again. We don't play politics. You best watch yourselves." He glared at the two brothers, then turned, his cloak flapping, and disappeared into the throng.

"Arrogant little nutter, isn't he?" Albus said. James glanced at him and grinned.

"See you in the Great Hall, Al."

"Yeah," Albus replied, nodding toward the carriages. "Have fun with the Thestrals. Don't let them frighten you too much."

"You're the one who has nightmares about them, not me," James said, rolling his eyes. "Like I told you, they're invisible."

Albus simply looked at James, a curious expression on his face.

"What?" James asked.

"Nothing," Albus said quickly. "I was just thinking of something else Dad said on the platform, right before I got on the train."

James stopped and furrowed his brow. "What'd he say?"

Albus shrugged. "He said James might have a little surprise with the Thestrals."

With that, Albus turned, shouldered his pack, and walked toward Hagrid at the far end of the platform.

They weren't invisible; at least not completely. James hung back, sincerely apprehensive to get too close to the horrible-looking, semi-transparent creatures hitched to the carriages. The nearest one beat its great leathery wings slowly. It turned to look at him, its blank white eyes bulging grotesquely.

"You can see them, eh?" a voice asked. James glanced up, startled, and saw the stout face and red cheeks of his friend Damien Damascus. Damien was also looking at the Thestrals, his brow slightly furrowed. "I started seeing them at the beginning of my fourth year. Shocked me good, I'll tell you. I thought the carriages were just magical, that they pulled themselves up to the castle. Noah took me aside and told me all about the Thestrals. He'd been seeing them since his second year. Come on, they're harmless. They're actually kind of cool when you get used to them."

James threw his bag into the carriage and climbed into the rear seat.

"Hi, James," Sabrina said as she heaved herself into the front seat. She still wore a quill in her wavy red hair. It bounced jauntily as she turned to look over her shoulder. "So what was the drama in the train? Merlin looked like he was going to shoot death bolts from his eyes."

James ran his hand through his hair wearily. "Don't remind me. I already got ten points taken from Gryffindor."

"Not the best way to start the year off," Petra Morganstern said, joining Sabrina on the front seat. "That kind of thing can get your fellow Gryffindors a bit peeved. Fortunately, we seventh-years are above being petty about such things."

"Sabrina and I are sixth-years," Damien pointed out. "And I don't know about her, but I'm still as petty as they come. I haven't forgiven you lot for losing us the House Cup last year. To Hufflepuff, of all things."

"You'll forgive us for trying to save the world," Petra said lightly, arranging her robes on the seat. "Besides, I recall you were involved in that escapade as well."

"That may be, but unlike the rest of you, my involvement was never proved. That's why our dear departed Ted saw fit to make me the official Gremlins scapegoat. Allegations just roll right off me."

Sabrina nodded seriously. "I'm glad you found a good use for that oily hide of yours."

There was a sudden jerk and the carriage rolled forward. James looked and saw the ghostly Thestral trotting ahead, pulling the carriage. He squinted at it, trying to see it more clearly.

Damien leaned toward him and asked in a quiet voice, "So who died?"

"What?" James blurted, turning to look at the bigger boy. He lowered his own voice and asked, "How'd you know?"

"My aunt died when I was in my third year," Damien replied. "It was silly, really. Broom accident on her way back from visiting my grandparents. Mum warned her not to fly with a storm coming on, but Aunt Aggie always thought she was indestructible. She stayed alive in St. Mungo's long enough for us all to get there and see her. She died while I was there, in the room. When I came back the next year, I saw the Thestrals for the first time. I thought I was going daft until Noah pulled me aside and told me about them. He said that they become visible to anyone who has witnessed and accepted a death. So who died?"

James sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. "My Granddad Weasley," he said in a soft voice. "He had a heart attack."

Damien raised his eyebrows. "Old Arthur Weasley?"

"You knew him?"

"Well, not in person," he replied, "but he was the father-in-law of your dad, and let's face it, your dad's a celebrity. Besides, Arthur Weasley faced Voldy's snake, didn't he? Not bad for a Ministry quillpusher! Lots of people know about that. They say that it proves courage is more important than magic when it comes to the sticking point."

James looked at Damien, surprised. "Do they really?"

"Sure they do," Damien said. "I mean, the people who say that are also the kind of people who buy Hair-growth Charms and read The Quibbler, but still, yeah, they say it all right."

James looked back out at the hazy shape of the Thestral. It trotted along, pulling the carriage easily despite the fact that it looked skinny enough to break in half.

"Why is it only partly visible?" James finally asked.

"Is it?" Damien leaned forward. "Looks solid enough to me."

"I can see the street right through it," James said, shuddering.

"Well, like I said," Damien replied, settling back in his seat as the great castle rose over the nearby trees, "the Thestrals become visible to anyone who has seen and accepted a death. It doesn't sound like you saw your granddad die with your own eyes like I did with my aunt, but he meant enough to you for it to mean the same thing."

"We were waiting for him to come home," James replied hollowly. "We were just waiting for him to come through the Floo. Somebody did, but it wasn't Granddad. It was the messenger telling us he'd died."

"So you went from believing he was right there with you, to the knowledge of his death, all in a matter of seconds," Damien said, nodding. "That was close enough to give you a half-look at the Thestrals. But I don't think that's all there is to it. Sounds like you haven't quite accepted it yet either, have you?"

James sighed, not answering. Instead, he looked up at the sprawling, monstrous shape of the castle as it loomed ahead. Its myriad windows were lit against the misty, cloudy evening. James thought he could see the Gryffindor Tower, where his bed was waiting for him. It was nice to be back even if things did feel very different. It had felt that way ever since the funeral, just knowing that Granddad was no longer out there somewhere, like he'd always been. No, James realized, he hadn't accepted Granddad's death. Not yet. And what was more, he didn't want to. It didn't feel fair to Granddad. Accepting his death felt like giving up on him.

For a moment, James wondered if Albus felt the same way, and then he remembered how Albus had attacked Scorpius in the corridor of the train, tackling him and yelling "Take it back! Take it back right now!" Albus hadn't accepted Granddad's death either. It just looked different in him, mainly because Albus had now found someone at whom to point his anger and grief. It probably wasn't the healthiest way to manage things, but James couldn't think of anything better. To be sure, Scorpius made it rather easy for Albus to hate him. James had grown up with Albus, and he knew just how passionate the boy could be. Thinking that, James didn't know whether to despise Scorpius or pity him.

James marveled at time's ability to alter one's perception. Merely one year earlier, he had entered the Great Hall for the first time, filled with apprehension and worry. Now he threw himself happily into the noise of the gathered students, greeting friends he hadn't seen all summer and being welcomed into the hearty fracas of the Gryffindor table. The floating candles filled the hall with warmth and light, forming an exciting contrast against the sullen grey clouds represented on the room's ceiling. Peeves swooped randomly throughout the candles, blowing raspberries on the tiny flames in an effort to put them out, but they simply relit themselves with small pops as he passed. James sat down at the Gryffindor table and grabbed a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from a nearby bowl. Bravely, he popped one into his mouth without checking the color. A moment later, he screwed up his face, not quite daring to spit the candy out.

"You'll want to be especially careful with those, James," a fellow second-year, Graham Warton, called. "Those were provided free of charge by your pals at Weasleys'. They partnered with Bertie Bott's for a whole new line of novelty flavors, and we get to be the test market."

"What is it?" James managed to say, swallowing the horrid bean and grabbing a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Judging by the color of your tongue, I'd say that one was Lemon-Lima-Bean," Graham said, squinting studiously. "There's also Mint-Chocolate-Chipmunk and Peanut-Pickle-Brittle."

"Damien just ate one of the Steak-and-Kidney-Stone beans!" Noah Metzker called from the end of the table, pointing. "Everybody, duck! I think he's going to blow!"

James couldn't help laughing as Damien struggled to swallow the bean. Petra pounded him gravely on the back until Damien shoved her away, lunging for his goblet.

A hush rippled over the rowdy students and James looked up to see Merlin approach the huge podium on the hall's dais. He had donned a blazing red robe with a high golden collar, and James recognized it as Merlin's rather ancient version of a dress robe. The sleeves and collar of the robe were encrusted with braided scrollwork that glittered with actual gold and jewels. The giant man's beard glistened with oil and he carried his staff with him, knocking it pointedly on the floor as he approached. He was so tall that he made the podium appear small. He leaned over it slightly, his eyes unreadable as they roamed over the silenced assembly.

"Greetings, students and faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said slowly, his deep voice echoing all round. "My name is Merlinus Ambrosius, and if you have somehow managed not to learn of it on the wizarding wireless or in the newspapers, I am the new Headmaster of this institution. As such, I will expect to hear no more of the rather distressing verbal tendency of this age to use my name as an oath or an expression of amazement. You should know that neither I nor my underpants find it the least bit amusing."

James knew that the comment would have been funny if Merlin hadn't said it with such pointed gravity. He glared out at the assembly of students, daring anyone to so much as chuckle. Apparently satisfied, he straightened and smiled disarmingly.

"Very well, then. As Headmaster, I succeed Madam Minerva McGonagall, who, as you can see, has deigned to remain at the school to serve as my advisor and to continue in her duties as Professor of Transfiguration."

There was a burst of applause, which seemed to take Merlin off guard. He blinked out over the crowd, and then smiled slightly. The applause grew to a sustained ovation and Merlin stepped back from the podium, acknowledging the former Headmistress. On the floor before the podium, the first-years were lining up behind Professor Longbottom. James saw Albus and Rose, both of whom were looking around the room in awe. Rose glanced up at the dais just as the newly retitled Professor McGonagall pushed her chair back. She stood and raised one hand, smiling tightly. On the floor, Rose elbowed Albus and pointed.

"Thank you," McGonagall called over the sound of the applause, trying to drown it out. "Thank you, this is all very kind, but I know you all too well not to know that at least some of you are applauding my long-awaited departure for your own reasons entirely. Still, the sentiment is quite appreciated."

Laughter rounded out the applause as Professor McGonagall settled back into her chair. Merlin approached the podium again.

"Besides finding yourselves with a new Headmaster, those of you who are returning this year will find several more changes. Not the least of these is the installation of our new Wizard Literature professor, Juliet Knowles Revalvier, who is herself an accomplished writer, as many of you may know. Additionally, allow me to introduce to you your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Kendrick Debellows."

A wave of awed whispering filled the hall as a large man half-rose from his seat on the dais. He smiled a huge, winning smile and raised his hand. James remembered him from the train. He was the man who'd passed him and Albus when they'd been looking for the Borley. James hadn't recognized him then, but he did now. His hair was going grey and cut severely short, and he had gained rather a lot of weight in the years since his famous exploits as leader of the Harriers, the wizarding world's elite special forces squadron. Across the room, at the Slytherin table, James saw Ralph looking puzzled. His friend Trenton was leaning over to him, apparently explaining who Kendrick Debellows was. On the floor below the dais, James saw Scorpius Malfoy turn away, his face vaguely disgusted.

"I've got a whole collection of Debellows action figures at home," James heard Noah whisper meaningfully. "I collected them when I was little. I used to sic them on Steven's cat until one of them nearly tied its tail in a knot."

"I see many of you are familiar with Professor Debellows," Merlin commented from the podium. "I trust you will therefore find his classes interesting as well as challenging. And now I believe we will witness one of this school's longest and most important traditions: the Sorting of our newest students into their houses. Professor McGonagall, if you would do us the honors."

Exactly as last year, a wooden stool had been placed on the dais. Atop it, the worn and ancient Sorting Hat sat, looking like nothing more than a dusty cast-off from a forgotten wardrobe. James knew that in his parents' day, and for centuries before, the Hat had sung a song prior to each year's Sorting. Last year, however, the Hat had not produced a song. James hadn't thought about it much; he'd merely assumed that after all those centuries the Hat deserved the occasional break. Now, the ancient Hat stirred on its stool, apparently preparing to sing. The fold that formed the mouth seemed to open, to take a deep breath, and then the Hat's high, lilting voice filled the waiting silence.

"A thousand years and more have I resided at my post

And watched the tide of years forever ebb upon my host

Fair Hogwarts alters not despite the weight of ages raging

For Hogwarts knows that time revolves, while she is only aging

The rise of villains coincides, to keep the balance rightly

With dawning heroes in whose eyes good justice blazes brightly

In recent past, dread Voldemort rose up with might so scary

That fate did send a hero boy, the orphan Potter, Harry

And thus unveiled the drama of time's everlasting scheme

The players change, the venues shift, but constant is the theme

The root of evil always finds a new and fertile garden

But valor's heart is ever strong to bring us fate's good pardon

And this, you see, brings us to me, the Hat that does the Sorting,

For 'tis my task to keep the balance right for evil thwarting

For witnessed I the dawn of that long battle that endures

And long as that old struggle lasts, my duty hope ensures

I see the seed that guarantees the role of every student

And place them best into the House that grows that seed most prudent

In Hufflepuff, the seed of loyalty and diligence

For Ravenclaw, the vine of knowledge grows with common sense

Brave Gryffindor breeds valor and courageousness of heart

And Slytherin gives those who love ambition their good start

They go there hence into their House as sign of their vocation

But many sense it gives a hint of deeper motivation

Make no mistake, judge not the one upon their house of Sorting

But always look instead to gauge the way of their comporting

For good can come of any House, regardless of its banner

And evil, too, can spread its leaves within the finest manor

Beneath my brim now come and sit to hear my declaration

But be assured, you bring along your heart's own inclination

It matters not what happens while you sit upon this chair

The true judge of your character is what's beneath your hair."

As the Sorting Hat finished its song, the Hall erupted into applause. James grinned, craning to look across the room toward Ralph, who smiled back a little sheepishly. If anyone needed to hear the Hat's most recent song, it was Ralph, whose assignment to Slytherin had been a source of rather constant consternation during the previous year. As the applause died away, Professor McGonagall approached the Hat, producing a long parchment from her robes. She unrolled it and studied it through her tiny spectacles. She nodded to herself, lowered the parchment, and picked up the Sorting Hat by its tip.

"Cameron Creevey," she announced loudly. "Please join me on the dais."

A very small, very nervous-looking boy climbed the steps and clambered onto the stool. There's no way I looked that young and scared when I sat on that stool, James thought to himself, smiling. He remembered it very well: the voice of the magical Hat in his head considering him, debating which house would best suit him. It had been a close call. Moments before he'd climbed the dais, as then-Headmistress McGonagall had called his name, the Slytherin table had broken out in applause. A beautiful, albeit severe-looking, darkhaired girl named Tabitha Violetus Corsica had led the applause, and as James looked back on the memory, he thought for the first time that the Slytherins' applause had merely been a ruse, intended to sway him into accepting an assignment to Slytherin. As scared as he'd been, as worried as he'd been about the responsibility of following in his famous father's footsteps, James had almost fallen for it. For a fleeting moment, under the brim of the Sorting Hat, James had considered becoming a Slytherin, and the Hat had concurred. Only at the last second had James firmed his resolve, proving that he meant to be a Gryffindor, like his parents before him.

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat proclaimed. Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat from Creevey's head as the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers. Cameron Creevey grinned in obvious relief as he ran down the steps. He crammed into the front of the table, sitting between Damien and a seventh-year named Hugo Paulson.

"Thomas Danforth," Professor McGonagall called, reading from her parchment. A moment later, the Ravenclaw table cheered as the bespectacled boy smiled sheepishly, joining his new housemates. As the Sorting continued, James glanced around the hall, picking out all the faces he knew. There was Victoire, sitting resplendently amidst her seventh-year Hufflepuff friends. Gennifer Tellus and Horace Birch whispered to each other at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and James remembered Zane telling him that they had begun seeing each other over the summer. Across the room, Tabitha Corsica sat smiling politely, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. On her left sat Philia Goyle, whose bricklike face was as expressionless as ever. Tom Squallus sat on Tabitha's right, his blonde hair combed neatly and his eyes almost unnaturally bright and alert. It almost looked like the trio of Slytherins were up to something, but James reminded himself that they always looked like that. They were probably just waiting for the Sorting of their new mate—

"Scorpius Malfoy," Professor McGonagall called, lowering her parchment and glancing down at the remaining first-years. Scorpius curled the corner of his mouth as he turned. He climbed the steps and sat jauntily on the stool, one leg kicked out in front of him. The Hat threw his face into shadow as Professor McGonagall lowered it.

Several seconds went by. The room had become rather restless as the older students got bored with the ceremony, but they silenced again as the pause grew longer. The Hat sat perfectly still on Scorpius' head. Scorpius himself didn't move. James looked around, surprised at the delay. Everybody knew that the Malfoys were Slytherins. Their family was known to have been among Voldemort's strongest supporters. Lucius Malfoy, Scorpius' grandfather, was said to still be in hiding for crimes he'd committed as a Death Eater, although James' dad had denied it. "He just likes to believe he's the most wanted man in the wizarding world," Harry had chuckled to Ginny one morning over breakfast. "His worst punishment is living in a world where his idol is dead." Still, there couldn't be any question about a Malfoy's house, could there? They nearly defined what it was to be a Slytherin. Perhaps something was wrong with the Hat. James nudged Graham, who glanced at him and shrugged curiously.

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat suddenly sang out, pointing its peak at the ceiling.

Complete, stunned silence filled the hall as the Hat was lifted from Scorpius' head. His chin drooped and he closed his eyes. After a long moment, he climbed off the stool and clumped slowly down the stairs. The Gryffindor table remained absolutely silent as Scorpius approached it. He passed the head of the table, where most of the newly named Gryffindors sat staring, wide-eyed. James watched as Scorpius stalked the entire length of the table, not raising his eyes. When he reached the end, he stopped for a moment, apparently unwilling to actually sit down. Finally, he slumped onto a bench on the end. He raised his eyes, and James saw that they were tinged with red. Scorpius glared at James. After a long moment, he pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the front of the hall.

"Albus Potter," McGonagall called into the silence. James couldn't help glancing aside at the Slytherin table. Tabitha wasn't rising to applaud this time. Strangely though, she was still smiling her polite smile, apparently completely unperturbed by Malfoy's Sorting.

Albus looked back over his shoulder as he climbed the steps to the dais. James assumed he was looking at him; he smiled encouragingly and nodded to his brother up on the dais. Albus showed no sign that he'd seen him. He approached the stool and stared down at it for a moment. Professor McGonagall nodded curtly to him. Albus squared his shoulders, turned, and sat down.

There was no idle chatter now as the Sorting Hat settled onto Albus' head. Every eye in the room watched. Everyone knew that Albus was going to go to Gryffindor. James had only ever joked about it because he was so sure it was only a joke. A Potter could never really be sent to Slytherin. But as James thought that, he remembered the look of hate on Albus' face when Malfoy had insulted him on the Hogsmeade platform. Albus had always been a passionate boy. That could be a very good thing, a beautiful thing. But, as James had very recently thought, it could also be a little scary. Too late, James realized that Albus had not turned to look back at him, James, when he'd climbed the stairs to his Sorting. He'd turned to look back at Scorpius, to make sure he was watching. He wanted to make sure Scorpius wouldn't miss what was about to happen.

"Slytherin!" the Hat proclaimed loudly. There was a sustained, collective gasp, filling the hall. Professor McGonagall raised the Hat from Albus' head, and even she seemed surprised at the pronouncement.

Albus was grinning happily, but he wasn't looking at the table belonging to his new house, which had erupted into wild applause. Albus was looking down the length of the Gryffindor table. James didn't need to follow his brother's gaze to know who he was looking at, but he did anyway.

Scorpius Malfoy stared back at Albus, his eyes baleful, his mouth a grim, white line of pure hatred.