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.
4. Trial of the Golden Cord
As dinner appeared on the tables and the assembly began to eat, James couldn't help craning to see what was happening at the Slytherin table. Albus was seated next to Ralph, but he was deep in animated conversation with Trenton Bloch, Ralph's best Slytherin friend. As James watched, the two boys erupted into raucous laughter. Even Ralph was smiling and nodding as he gnawed a chicken leg.
"Something wrong with your neck, James?" Graham asked around a mouthful of stew.
"I'm just trying to see what's going on," James said. "It just isn't right! Albus can't be a Slytherin!"
Rose, beaming about her own Sorting into Gryffindor House, leaned toward James. "You keep on saying that, but as I recall, you were the one winding him up all summer about becoming exactly that."
"Well, yeah, but I was never serious!"
Graham followed James' gaze, peering across the hall to the table under the green banner. "Looks like he's having a grand time of it. Even Corsica is talking to him."
"Well," James exclaimed stridently, "she would, wouldn't she? She was trying to make all nice with me last year as well, up until she called my dad a liar in front of the whole school. She's probably just as pleased as can be that they've got a Potter in Slytherin. Who knows what kind of propaganda she'll fill his head with? It'll be her crowning achievement."
"Albus can take care of himself, James," Noah said dismissively. "Besides, you said yourself you were almost sent to Slytherin last year."
"I should go check on him," James said, moving to stand. Damien reached over and pushed him back into his seat.
"Let him be," Damien said. "He looks to be doing just fine."
"But he's in Slytherin!" James cried, exasperated. "He can't go to Slytherin! He's a Potter!"
"You want to talk about surprises," Rose said, lowering her voice, "even as we speak, a Malfoy is sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table."
James had nearly forgotten about Scorpius. He turned, following Rose's glance. Scorpius wasn't eating. The Gryffindors nearest him were studiously ignoring him, laughing and joking loudly. Scorpius caught James looking at him. He narrowed his eyes and smiled grotesquely, making a parody of those around him. Then he rolled his eyes and turned away.
"That's the one that really baffles me," Graham muttered. "How's a greasy git like him end up a Gryffindor?"
Rose reached for another roll. "You don't know what's in his heart," she said. "The Sorting Hat sees who you really are, not what your family has always been. Maybe there's more to Scorpius Malfoy than meets the eye."
James shook his head. "Not a chance. I heard the way he talked about Granddad. He's horrible. Besides, he was as proud as a peacock about his Slytherin heritage."
"None of that makes him a Slytherin," Rose commented carefully.
"That's true," Damien concurred. "Being nasty isn't necessarily a ticket into Slytherin. Like the Hat said, Slytherins are usually known for ambition. Maybe after a few decades of backing the losing horse, guys like Malfoy are finding raw ambition a little harder to come by."
"So that makes him Gryffindor material?" Graham asked disgustedly. "I can barely stand to look at him. What's Gryffindor about him?"
Nobody had any response to that. James couldn't help glancing aside again, looking down the length of the table to where Scorpius sat. The boy looked completely disinterested and aloof, but James knew it was a façade. He'd seen the expression on Scorpius' face when he first sat down at the Gryffindor table. James remembered his own fears on the night of his Sorting, worried that he'd not make it into Gryffindor, that he'd disappoint his family and fail to live up to the expectations of the son of Harry Potter. Was Scorpius dealing with the same sort of situation in reverse? James suspected he was, but his pride wouldn't let him show it. And then there was Albus, who, to James' complete amazement, had apparently allowed the Sorting Hat to send him to Slytherin just to spite Scorpius.
Without planning it, James climbed off the bench. He walked to the end of the table and stopped next to Scorpius. The pale boy pretended not to notice him.
"Well," James began, not entirely sure what to say, "looks like we're going to be housemates."
Scorpius still didn't look at James. He seemed to be gazing out over the other tables, his eyes halflidded, as if bored.
"I suppose we didn't get off too well, back on the train," James continued. He felt the eyes of the rest of the table upon him, and he hoped that this was a good idea. "But since we're going to be living in the same rooms for the rest of the year, I thought maybe it'd be best just to start over. Welcome to Gryffindor, Scorpius."
James stuck his hand out, the same way he'd seen Scorpius' dad do it when he'd spoken to Harry at the funeral. Scorpius was still staring idly out over the hall. Slowly, he turned his head, looking disdainfully at James' proffered hand.
"Well, that's very sweet, Potter, but don't go wasting your manners on me," Scorpius said, allowing a crooked grin to curl his lip. "We may have to share a house, but that doesn't make us mates. You think I'm all broken-hearted at not being selected for Slytherin? Well, you're wrong. I'm perfectly happy being a Gryffindor. In fact, I consider it a golden opportunity. I intend to prove to you what it really means to be a Gryffindor. After all these years of sloppy heroics and lucky breaks, I might just show you what courage really looks like."
James realized he still had his hand sticking out. "Yeah," he replied, dropping his arm to his side. "Well, good luck with that, then. Have it your way." He turned away, but Scorpius spoke again, stopping him.
"I'm not so sure about little Albus as a Slytherin though," he said conversationally. "At first, I was concerned they might just eat him alive. But now it looks like I was wrong. Little Potter boy might have a bit more Slytherin in him than I thought. ASP, indeed."
James looked back at Scorpius, who was still grinning crookedly. "I thought you didn't even know our first names."
Scorpius shrugged languidly. "I guess I was lying," he replied. "That was back when I thought I was going to be a Slytherin. Now that I'm a member of the scarlet and gold, I'll make it a point to always be truthful, won't I?"
Amazingly, a few of the Gryffindors chuckled at that. Scorpius reached for his goblet and raised it, as if saluting.
"Here's to new l
egacies," he announced, raising one eyebrow sardonically. "There's a toast you can agree with, right, Potter?"
James finally caught up with Albus as he was leaving the Great Hall in the company of his new housemates. Albus appeared to be quite popular among the Slytherins as they gathered around him, laughing raucously.
"Really, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Albus was saying. "I mean sure, growing up the son of the most famous wizard in the world has its perks, but it doesn't get me any special privileges here at Hogwarts. Especially with you lot, eh?"
There was another round of laughter. Obviously, Albus was making the most of his rather shocking house assignment. James shouldered his way into the crowd and grabbed Albus' elbow.
"Hey, easy, big brother," Albus called as James pulled him away. "This is my brother, James, everybody. He gets his bossiness from Mum's side of the family. Don't start the party without me, eh?"
Albus turned back to James near the base of the stairs. He pulled his elbow out of James' grip, his face turning annoyed. "What's the big idea, James? I want to see my new rooms."
"Slytherin!" James hissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the waiting gang of students. Tabitha Corsica smiled crookedly and nodded in his direction.
"Yeah, Slytherin," Albus shrugged. "Same as you've been saying all summer."
James turned back. "Don't pretend I talked you into this, Al. You knew I was just ribbing you. Tell me the truth. Did you do this just to spite Scorpius?"
Albus rolled his eyes. "Get off my back, James. How was I to know Malfoy was going to get Sorted into Gryffindor?"
"I saw the way you looked back at him when you went up to the dais. You wanted to show him up! That's a stupid reason to go to Slytherin. Come on, Al! This affects your whole school life! You're a Slytherin, now!"
"I didn't choose this, you know," Albus said, lowering his voice and looking James in the eye. "The Sorting Hat does the Sorting. That's what it's for, James."
"But Dad said—"
"Yeah, well, maybe things have changed. Or maybe the Hat didn't think I wanted to be a Gryffindor bad enough. Either way, when I put it on, the only thing that came into my head was a vision of me in the house of the green and silver. And the truth is, for the first time ever, I kind of liked it."
James frowned. "But all summer long, you were completely dotty about it. I mean really, Al, I wouldn't have wound you up so much about it if it hadn't gotten such a rise out of you."
Albus shrugged and looked around, taking in the stairway and the Entrance Hall. "Maybe I did it just to spite you, then. That'll teach you to rag on me about stuff. I might just go and do it after all, eh?"
James grimaced, exasperated.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, James," Albus said, clapping James on the shoulder. "Time's have changed, haven't they? The other thing Dad told me on the platform was that if I did become a Slytherin, they'd have gotten themselves a brilliant new member. You can be king of Gryffindor House, all right? I'll work my magic in Slytherin and we'll have all of Hogwarts by the tail."
James shook his head but smiled a little. "You are the boldest little twonk ever, Al. I almost believe you. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Not in the least," Albus nodded gravely. "But it's never stopped me before. Listen, don't tell Mum and Dad about this yet. I want to tell them myself, right?"
James grimaced. "What do you think I am, a squealer?"
"Well, you did squeal on Ted and Victoire at the station this morning."
"I told you—"
Albus raised his hands, backing away. "That's between you and your conscience, big brother. I best be getting back to my new housemates. Ralph says they have sweet broom cakes and real Turkish Delight down there first night. I can't wait to have that flagon of Butterbeer in front of the snake's head fireplace, eh?"
James sighed as Albus rejoined his new housemates heading down into the cellars. As he turned to climb the staircase, he was met by Rose.
"Ralph says he'll keep an eye on Albus," Rose said reassuringly. "Frankly, Slytherin probably is a better fit for him. He's always been a bit of a wild horse, you know."
"Yeah, I know," James agreed. "I just didn't expect it to really happen. It feels really weird having a Potter in Slytherin."
"Are you jealous?"
"What?" James exclaimed, looking sideways at Rose as they reached the landing. "Why in the world would I be jealous?"
Rose shrugged noncommittally. "I hear the Gremlins have a little something planned for tonight."
"How do you know about that already?"
"Well," Rose replied self-deprecatingly, "it was partly my idea. They liked it so much they asked me to come along. In all fairness though, it wouldn't have been possible without you."
James remembered last year's first night when the Gremlins had bewitched him to look like a green alien and convinced him to clamber out of a makeshift flying saucer, much to the amazement of a local Muggle farmer. "They aren't still raising the Wocket are they?"
"No, apparently they retired the Wocket when Ted graduated. Muggle-baiting is pretty tasteless, really, and besides, it's not much good now that the Headmaster has seen it and knows where it was hidden."
"You sure know an awful lot about this, Rose."
"Apparently, being a Weasley carries a lot of weight in certain circles," she replied happily.
As they entered the common room, James couldn't help smiling. The familiar babble of laughter and conversation filled the room like a cauldron. The bust of Godric Gryffindor swooped dangerously overhead as a group of fifth- and sixth-years played Winkles and Augers with it. Cameron Creevey had already arrived and was sitting with a few other new Gryffindors on a sofa near the crackling fireplace. Cameron noticed James and his eyes widened a little. He nudged the girl next to him.
"Hey, James," Heth Thomas, one of Gryffindor's Beaters, called from across the room. "You going to try out for the Quidditch team again this year? We're taking odds on how big a hole you'll make in the pitch."
"I'd be careful getting in on that action," James replied, grinning. "I've been practicing this summer."
"Right," Graham interjected, "whenever you weren't grounded from your broom by your dad, I hear."
This was greeted with hoots of good-natured laughter. James made a sarcastic mime of laughing along. The truth of it was that he enjoyed the ribbing. He was looking forward to the try-outs. The more they expected him to repeat last year's performance, the better he'd look.
Noah, Petra, Damien, and Sabrina were crowded around a table in the corner of the rowdy common room. Damien and Sabrina were busily hunched over a large sheet of parchment, quills in their hands. They appeared to be arguing in hushed tones, pointing at bits of the parchment. Noah and Petra looked up and waved James and Rose over.
"We've not got much time," Noah said. "But fortunately, that's Damien and Sabrina's problem. Besides, what can go wrong? We've got a Weasley back at Hogwarts again. All is well with the world."
"How do you spell 'forsooth'?" Sabrina asked without looking up.
"It won't matter," Damien said tersely, "if we don't know, nobody will."
"What's the plan?" James asked, plopping into a chair nearby.
Noah looked at Rose, then back at James. "We think it'd be best if you didn't know. For now."
"You'll thank us later, James," Rose agreed.
"What?" James said, frowning. "Why in the world shouldn't I know?"
"Trust us, James," Petra said. "It'll be much better for you if you can honestly claim ignorance."
"That's what Ted said last year at the debate, too," James grumbled. He opened his mouth to protest further, but a sudden change in the atmosphere distracted him. Someone else was entering the common room. James glanced around to see who it was.
Scorpius Malfoy clambered awkwardly through the portrait hole, getting his robes caught on the uneven bricks. He straightened and yanked at his robes, irritated. Finally, he turned and took in
the room, his pale face grim.
"Quaint," he drawled. "How perfectly whimsical. I expect we'll be roasting marshmallows over the fireplace and singing happy sing-alongs round about midnight, yes? Perhaps someone could point me in the direction of the dormitories."
"Oi," Graham answered, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "It's up those stairs, Malfoy. We'll save you a marshmallow."
James watched Scorpius hoist his satchel and stalk across the floor, threading between the suddenly silent students that filled the room. Hugo Paulson, a huge seventh year, was lounging in a high-back chair with his legs sprawled in front of him, blocking Scorpius' path. Scorpius stopped, waiting for Hugo to move. Hugo pretended to notice Malfoy for the first time. He grinned and moved his legs. Scorpius rolled his eyes and continued on.
James knew he should warn Scorpius, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The rest of the Gryffindors watched with bright, avid eyes as the pale boy scowled once back over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the dimness of the staircase.
He made it to the fourth step before the alarm sounded. The stair steps flattened, transforming into a rough stone slide. Scorpius struggled for purchase on the smooth surface, but it was no use. He slid back down into the common room and crashed to the floor. There was a roar of laughter. Hugo jumped up, braying uproariously, and grabbed Scorpius' arm, hoisting him to his feet.
"The age-old girls' dorm swap. We should really get some signs, shouldn't we? It's all in good fun, Malfoy," Hugo announced, clapping the boy on the back. "We got to initiate you somehow, don't we?"
Scorpius retrieved his satchel and shot a look of cold fury at Graham. Without a word, he stalked back across the room to the opposite staircase.
"That was mean," Rose said mildly after Scorpius had gone.
"He took it better than I expected, really," Noah commented. "Knowing his kind, I'd have thought he'd Avada Kedavra somebody just for spite."
"He's probably up there putting the Cruciatus Curse on some spiders even now," Graham replied.
James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper Page 10