Well, here's chapter three. Harry and Ginny come back into the story, though not as majorly as they will later.
And now, for the age-old appeal for more reviews: Please leave a review! If you love it, tell me to boost my moral. :D If you hate it, tell me and I'll try to improve. Thanks to those of you who’ve reviewed so far!
Thanks as always to my absolutely, incredibly brilliantly wonderful beta Erik (Victor Aagaard). I read other people's A/N's about how the chapter was delayed because their beta was working on it, but Erik always gets my chapters within a few days. He's the one who introduced me to fan fic in the first place, for which I am eternally grateful.
I say all this because, for the time being, he can't beta for me any more. His internet is down (and likely will be for a while), and to top it off he can't access his e-mail even when he does get internet. We've tried a few solutions to this, but none were working out, so I'M SENDING OUT A PLEA FOR A NEW BETA.
Please, if you have any interest, PM me or e-mail me saying so. I'd prefer someone with Britpicker experience, but that's not necessary. Know that I'm overly fond of commas. :D
I have up to Chapter 5 beta-ed, but after that I can't post anything more until I have a beta, so, please could someone help me out?
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The Next Generation | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/PM Characters:None Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 202 Summary: “I won’t! I won’t be a Slytherin!” So says the youngest son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley just before he leaves for his first year at Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter’s worst nightmare is to be sorted into Slytherin, house of the Dark wizards. Despite reassurances from his father, he still worries that it might come true… and it does. How does little Al cope with being a Slytherin? And can his family accept it? *This is actually a H/G story, although it doesn't sound like it from this summary* Hitcount: Story Total: 55830; Chapter Total: 5065 Author's Notes: |
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Al wasn’t quite sure how he made it through dinner. Luckily, he was sitting between two first years, who, being such, weren’t imbued with other students’ unpleasant views of him. While Alison and Tyler didn’t try to start a conversation with him — for which he was grateful, as he was still coming to terms with his Sorting — they were not malevolent or even unfriendly towards him. And so he ate in relative silence, thinking one horrid thought after another. He couldn’t bring himself to look at James again, not when he knew that he would only face more rejection. Towards the end of the meal, the two Slytherin prefects stopped to say a few words of welcome, as they did to all the first years. They seemed reluctant, or at least the female did. The boy nearly had to drag her towards Al — it was quite clear she was averse to being in the same house as Harry Potter’s son. Professor McGonagall made a short speech after dinner, welcoming everyone to Hogwarts and mentioning a few things that were forbidden. Al nearly smiled when he heard that everything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was on the list — Uncle Percy would be rather horrified -- but he couldn’t quite manage to express any positive emotion. After dinner, the Prefects led the way to the Slytherins’ dormitories. The common room did nothing to ease Albus’ doubts about Slytherin — the corridor leading to the Slytherin area clearly led underground, and the dcor of the common room was just as unpleasant: it was filled with skulls, and the greenish lamps gave the room an eerie feel. As the Prefects escorted all the first-years, Al used the opportunity to examine his class. He noticed two or three who seemed openly hostile towards him, if nasty glares were any indication. Most, including Draco Malfoy’s son Scorpius, seemed more curious than anything about his presence in Slytherin, with just a hint of distaste in their stares. And a few even seemed as if they were trying to be friendly to Al — they shot him sympathetic glances and tried to stay closer to him as they walked. Two of these, Al noticed, were Alison and Tyler, the two first-years between whom he had sat during dinner. Al felt rather hopeful as he noticed these sympathetic people, and resolved to be friendlier to them. He knew that school would be miserable if he was all alone, and it certainly seemed as though James wouldn’t be giving him any companionship. As they entered the common room — “The password is ‘serpentine’,” said one of the prefects — Albus hesitantly tried smiling back at Tyler. The boy grinned back in response, but his eyes held uncertainty. Suddenly, Al was reminded of the qualities of a Slytherin: What if he doesn’t really want to be my friend? Is he just trying to get in with the son of Harry Potter? Remember, Al, you have to start thinking like a Slytherin — they, we, care for no one, and work only for our own gain. He sighed. It sounded like a miserable way to live. Al’s posture and expression had suddenly become a lot less friendly. The boy prefect let Al, Tyler, and three other boys down a corridor that led off to the left of the common room and into a room with a silver plaque reading “First Years” on the door. “This,” he said, “is your dormitory. You sleep here, obviously,” he added, sneering slightly as he gestured towards the beds. “Your trunks are at the foot of your bed — now you can do whatever you want for the rest of the evening. I suggest you sleep — tomorrow is not going to be an easy day.” Smirking, he left the room. Albus looked around the room. While not exactly homey, it looked comfortable enough. A thick, plush rug in dark green covered the floor, and there were five four-poster beds lined up against the wall of the rectangular room. The hangings and covers on each were the same green as the rug, with silver trimmings. Yep, Slytherin colors. If Dad could see me now… Al sighed as he sat down on his new bed. He supposed he would have to write to his mother and father — they’d want to know what House he was in. He got up and opened his trunk, remembering how excited he had been as he purchased his new books and first-ever set of school robes. Had that really been just a week ago? Now, it seemed as if he’d never feel excited again — after all, Slytherins didn’t get excited over trivial things like new robes, did they? He dug through the trunk until he found his parchment, quills, and ink. He uncorked the bottle and breathed in the fresh scent of new ink, not caring as his nose brushed the rim, leaving a little smear of blue on the tip. Suddenly, he looked up, aware that his roommates were watching him. He decided to give friendliness one last effort. “Hi. I’m Al — Albus, but no one really calls me that. What are your names?” The boy in the bed closest to the wall gave him a suspicious look. Al felt guilty even as he was shocked that the boy would regard friendliness as a plot or something — was that how Tyler had felt after Al had stopped returning his grin? Tyler was in the bed next to Al’s and, even though Al knew his name from the Sorting, Tyler got up off his bed and went over to Al’s. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tyler. Nice to meet you, Al.” The formal words sounded odd, coming from the rather short boy, but Al quickly set down his ink and shook his hand. The boy in the bed two away from Al had clearly been watching the encounter closely, so Al wasn’t surprised when he also stood up and introduced himself as Jordan Greyling. The boy in the bed closest to the door was Scorpius Malfoy — Al didn’t need an introduction to see that. He, too, went over to Al’s bed and shook hands, saying, “I’m Scorpius Malfoy. I believe our fathers,” he hesitated for the barest second, “know each other.” Al hesitated too, wondering what to say. Start thinking like a Slytherin. Get this boy on your side — it can’t hurt, he told himself. Just don’t mention their old enmity. “Yes, my father speaks very highly of yours.” While this was perhaps stretching the truth, it was true that Harry Potter sometimes praised Malfoy as one of the few former Death Eaters who had never fully given in to Voldemort. Scorpius nodded, seeming satisfied with this response, then went back to his own bed. The boy in the bed farthest towards the wall was still looking at Al suspiciously. It was clear he wasn’t planning to come over, so Al decided to go over to him. “Hi,” he said as he approached. “I must have missed your name — what was it?” The boy was now looking almost murderous as he saw that his almost-open signs of resentment were being greeted with friendliness. However, he seemed to realise that he couldn’t refuse to give his name without being unreasonably rude. “Raymond Dolohov.” Al had to suppress a gasp when he heard the name. Dolohov? But he was a Death Eater… one of Voldemort’s originals, actually. Al had tried to learn as much about the Second War as he could, even though his father was reluctant to speak of it. He desperately wanted to inquire as to whether Raymond was related to Antonin Dolohov, but decided that it would be practically accusing Raymond of agreeing with Voldemort’s policies. He thought there was little chance that the two were not related. “Nice to meet you, Raymond,” he said at last. With that, Al went back to his bed and picked up his writing supplies. He dipped his quill in the ink and held it over the paper, trying to think of how to tell his parents that he was in Slytherin. He was interrupted by a voice from two beds away. A boy -- Jordan, Al told himself, time to start using their names -- was saying, in a slightly sarcastic voice, “Writing to Mummy already?” Al looked up, determined to keep his cool, though his opinion of Jordan had just gone down several notches. “Yes, well, I’m sure my parents will want to know -” that I’m a filthy Slytherin, he finished in his head. But aloud, he said - “which house I’m in.” Jordan smirked. “Oh, I see.” But this time, Al didn’t think he meant to be rude — Jordan was merely amused as he thought of famous Harry Potter the Gryffindor learning that his son was in Slytherin. Al went back to his letter. Dear Mum, Dad, Lily, and Athena, he managed to write, but that was as far as he got. What can I say now? How do I tell them? He decided to put it of for a few more minutes, and wrote several paragraphs about how pleasant the train ride had been with Minerva and Miri, and how impressed he was by the castle, and other generic bits of fluff. He sighed deciding to just write it plain and simple. I’m not quite sure how to say this, but I was Sorted into Slytherin. Please don’t be angry: I did ask the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor, but it refused. Al wrote a short closing to the letter, then signed it, resolving to send it the next morning as soon as he could figure out where to get an owl. His father had offered to get him an owl, but Al had declined, because Athena was really more his cat than anyone else’s. She slept on his bed, and sat on his lap most often. He had wanted to bring her to Hogwarts, but Lily had wanted her to stay at home, and his mum had given in to her. As he rolled up the letter, he looked around at the dormitory. It appeared that most of the boys were getting ready to go to sleep, so Al decided to do the same. Although the day had not been physically active, Al still found himself quite tired. As he got underneath the plush green covers with the silver thread, he tried to convince himself that he would have a good time in Slytherin. It’s not like your House really matters, he told himself, knowing full well that it was not true. And Slytherin is a fine House to be in — you’re practically guaranteed to have a successful career. James’ll realise that eventually, and as for Mum and Dad — well, they already said that which House I’m in doesn’t really matter to them. It’ll all work out… eventually. And on that happy note, he fell asleep for the first time in the Slytherin dormitory. Back in Godric’s Hollow, Lily was also preparing for bed, thinking enviously of her brothers at Hogwarts. They’ll be in their dormitories now, she thought, going to bed with all their friends. Hogwarts must be like an endless slumber party. She sighed, and repeated her new mantra. Just two more years. At least Hugo was still here — she was not quite alone. But Lily and Rose had always been very close friends, and it hurt to think that Rose got to leave two years before she did. As she tried to fall asleep, Lily wondered which House Al had been sorted into. I bet he’s a Gryffindor, or maybe even Ravenclaw. He’s always reading… but then again, the Weasleys and Potters are always in Gryffindor. Yeah, I’d bet that’s where he is. She sighed enviously. I can just picture it. He’ll be in a circular room in Gryffindor tower, with red hangings all over. Dark red, she decided, getting carried away with her imaginings. Burgundy, more like. And everything has gold tassels. Red and gold, the Gryffindor colors. She continued inventing details of the Gryffindor tower, looking forward to her own stay there in just a few years. After all, I just know I’ll be in Gryffindor. Both my brothers are. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that Al had been Sorted into the House of both his parents. A few doors down the corridor from Lily’s room, Harry was sprawled across his bed reading the Evening Prophet. The quality of the Prophet’s articles had greatly improved ever since Rita Skeeter had been sent to cover the politics of Luxembourg. Harry disliked using his fame and influence for anything other than moral causes, but he had made an exception for Rita Skeeter: he had asked the Prophet to ‘promote’ her as soon as he had heard rumors of her drafts for a new book, Harry Potter: The Life Behind the Scar. His wife, Ginny, was going through Harry’s side of the bureau, re-folding all his clothes. “Honestly, Harry, I don’t know how you manage it.” He looked up. “Manage what?” “To mess up all your clothes again, just after Winky’s done the laundry!” Ginny said, grinning. Two house-elves served the Potters: Winky and Kreacher. The latter had asked to stay at Grimmauld Place, and Harry had readily agreed on the condition that Kreacher make the place livable for someone who wasn’t a descendant of the Blacks. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Winky had been reluctant to return there — many house-elves had died, and the fighting had scared her greatly. At Hermione’s request, Harry had taken her on, even offering wages (which she declined). Harry shrugged and smiled back at her. “It’s just one of my talents, dear.” Ginny sighed in mock irritation. As she went back to folding, she said, “So, the boys’ll be at school by now. I do hope Al likes it at Hogwarts.” “How can he not? Hogwarts is, well, amazing.” He put down the Prophet as Athena the cat leapt up beside him on the bed. “Hi, Nini,” he said as he stroked her. “Missing Al already?” Ginny smiled, watching her husband pet the cat. “But do you think Al’ll get in Gryffindor? I’d feel so much better knowing that both my boys are together.” “I just know he will be,” said Harry confidently. “Trust me on this one.” “But how can you know? Unless, of course, you double as the Sorting Hat, and you just didn’t tell me?” she teased. Harry shook his head. “Remember how I told you that the Hat considered putting me in Slytherin, before I asked it to put me in Gryffindor?” When Ginny nodded, he continued. “Well, I know that Al wants to be a Gryffindor, and I’m pretty sure he could be, so I told him to just ask the Hat to put him there, and it almost certainly will.” Ginny nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I heard you telling him that at the Platform… Well, I suppose… still, he could go somewhere else." Seeing the stubborn look on his face, she added, "You really want him to be in Gryffindor, don't you?" Harry nodded. “Of course.” Ginny bit her lip. “But you will be alright if he’s in a different House, right? You won’t be mad at him?” “Ginny, I really don’t think-” “Harry, just because you’re a Potter and I’m a Weasley does not mean that he’ll be in Gryffindor!” Looking mildly alarmed at Ginny’s ferocity, Harry said, “Alright, alright! All the other Houses are fine, too! I have a mild preference to Gryffindor, is all.” Just as long as he’s not a Slytherin, he added to himself. Harry did not want his son to live amongst the sons and daughter or, in some cases, grandsons and granddaughters, of Death Eaters. Ginny nodded, still unsure. “Alright, then. He’ll probably owl us sometime tomorrow.” She sighed, hoping that her youngest son would love Hogwarts just as much as she did. |
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