ZODIAC: 01 - House Unity
Time for me to jump aboard the ASS ship and set sail!
Title: ZODIAC
Chapter: 01 - House Unity
Rating: PG (for now)
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius (in the future)
Words: 3,665
Warnings: Impending Slash, Deathly Hallow Spoilers, un-beta'd
Summary: Friendship can creep up on a person without them realising it, so can love.
Notes: This fanfiction was spawned from this thread in the AS/S community,
the_ass_ship .
The boy now sat upon the three-legged stool had been there for almost a minute. A tattered old wizard’s hat covered the top half of the boy’s face, hiding his silvery blue eyes and platinum blonde hair under its worn out fabric. Scorpius Malfoy was his name and he had spent longer on the stool than any of the other first years before him.
Albus Potter was confused. His Uncle Ron had told him about the Malfoys, that they were Slytherins through and through without a drop of doubt. However the hat had not screamed ‘SLYTHERIN!’ as soon as it touched Scorpius’s head like it had done for the Avery boy earlier, no the hat remained silent, and for a very long time.
It seemed Albus was not the only person confused. Eyes all over the Great Hall were looking at Scorpius with curiosity, even those who did not know of the famous Malfoy name. The boy on the stool was chewing his bottom lip anxiously. What would happen if the Sorting Hat couldn't choose? Albus had begun to get just as nervous as the boy when suddenly the fabric of the hat tore open, revealing something akin to a mouth, letting out a yell of, ‘SLYTHERIN!’
Pulling the hat off his head, Scorpius jumped off the stool as if it was a hot poker and made his way towards the Slytherin table, followed by an almost inaudible patter of applause.
Shuffling forward Albus watched the next person (‘Veronica Peakes’) take seat on the stool. ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ the hat yelled after two seconds of sitting atop the girl’s light brown hair. As Veronica hurried happily off to the table of her new House, the applause of the Hufflepuffs in her wake, Albus swallowed a lungful of air in anticipation.
Professor Longbottom gave him a small smile before calling his name and Albus felt obliged to smile back. He had known the professor for almost all his life, Longbottom was one of his dad’s closest friends, the two having known each other since the first year of Hogwarts. Longbottom would always come over for Christmas and New Year’s, each time ruffling Albus’s hair and saying things along the lines of, ‘You look so much like your Dad, you know?’ obviously meaning for the words to be complimentary.
Harry Potter was the saviour of the wizarding world after all. Therefore looking like a miniature version of him would be a good thing in most people’s eyes. Albus had thought so too when he was young, but after a while the words that had once filled him with pride ended up falling empty at his ears as the years went on. They were words that he felt people just said because they couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Albus had seen the photos of his father as a child and he had to admit there was a striking resemblance between them. But there were differences too, the main one being-and this was the one everyone noticed-that the bridge of Albus’s nose was void of glasses. He also had-splattered like bronze dust across his cheekbones-an array of soft freckles, and his hair shone a deep mahogany in the light, unlike the ebony mane of his father. However nobody ever seemed to focus on the differences, just the similarities. It annoyed Albus to no end.
‘Albus Potter?’ The second calling of his name broke Albus from his thoughts and, blushing, he walked slowly up to the stool, letting Professor Longbottom drop the Sorting Hat on his head. It fell over his eyes and the Great Hall disappear from view.
A Potter, eh? The voice seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, although not much like your brother. Albus couldn’t help but feel glad to hear that.
You have ambition I see, the hat went on. Ambition to live past the reputation your father has bestowed upon you. Slytherin would be nice for that; you will make a great friend there this year if you were to be a Slytherin.
Remembering the taunting words of his brother, Albus quickly shook his head. The oversized hat wobbled slightly.
No, he thought, Dad said I could choose and I don’t want to be in Slytherin. If a hat could raise an eyebrow-and if it had an eyebrow to raise-the Sorting Hat would have done just that.
Your father didn’t want to be in Slytherin either, such a shame. Both of you would have done well, it spoke in Albus’s mind. You’re a bright lad too so maybe… Ravenclaw? No, no, it won’t suit you. Hufflepuff perchance, I see some loyalty in you. No, not that either. I suppose I’ll be placing another Potter in…
‘GRYFFINDOR!’ the hat bellowed and Albus could hear the eruption of applause from the Gryffindor table upon hearing that they had landed themselves another Potter. Albus couldn’t help but feel relieved.
¤
The flimsy plant Professor Longbottom lifted to show the class looked-at least in Albus’s opinion-just like any other plant. It had leaves of which were green, like any other plant, and it had flowers too-something else not uncommon to see on other plants-of a pleasantly average pale lilac colour. There was nothing at all spectacular about its appearance, but of course Professor Longbottom thought otherwise.
‘White Dittany,’ the Herbology professor said, holding the plant in a way, and with such a proud look upon his face, it was almost as if he had the Quidditch World Cup in his grasp, ‘is one of the most wildly used healing herbs in the world, as well as one of the most effective herbs when it comes to the majority of physical injuries.’
Albus watched as the still-talking Professor Longbottom strode casually around the inside of the greenhouse, weaving in between the various desks and potted plants that filled the crowded space.
‘Other names for White Dittany,’ Professor Longbottom carried on, ‘include False Dittany and the latin name Dictamnus albus.’
Albus glanced up through the messy strands of his hair at what he had thought was the mention of his name. Green eyes (‘Just like your Dad’s,’ many a person said) noticed the smile playing on Longbottom’s friendly face and Albus smiled faintly back. So his name not only belonged to one of the greatest Headmasters of Hogwarts but also a stupid healing herb. What part of him was his own?
‘For you first Herbology lesson I would like you to learn how to extract the healing properties from White Dittany to make a paste used often in healing potions,’ Professor Longbottom said, turning back to the rest of the class. ‘I would like you to do this in pairs and these pairs will be kept throughout the first school term.’
The greenhouse was filled with the shuffling sound of feet as the first year students moved to find a partner. Albus felt a nudge from the seat next to him. He turned to see Daniel Coote, a mousy brown-haired fellow Gryffindor first year, grinning and mouthing the words, ‘Wanna be my partner?’ Albus was about mouth his own reply of ‘Alright then’ back when Professor Longbottom’s voice rose again above the noise.
‘Hold on a minute,’ he said, ‘what’s all this Gryffindors with Gryffindors and Slytherins with Slytherins I’m seeing?’ The question was evidently rhetorically because he didn’t allow time for any answers, continuing to talk in his happy voice. ‘This isn’t promoting House unity at all! Friends shouldn’t be just made in your own House… integrate.’ At that word Longbottom pulled out the class register from his robe pocket and began running his finger down the list of names.
‘Rightio…’ he began, ‘Septimus Avery from Slytherin with… let’s see, the first Gryffindor on the register is… Daniel Coote.’ At the sound of his name Daniel slowly stood from his seat and sat in the empty one at Septimus’s desk. Albus gave him a solemn nod before he left, a nod a soldier would give a comrade about to stand at the frontline of battle.
Longbottom continued to call out further pairs of names and forming further unenthusiastic Slytherin-Gryffindor partnerships without hesitation; that was, until he reached the letter ‘M’ on the register.
‘Oh,’ the professor said, his voice sounded suddenly sheepish. ‘Um next on the register is Scorpius Malfoy and… um… Albus Potter. Well that’s interesting.’
Interesting indeed. The professor looked torn between feigning worry and bursting into laughter. The rest of the class fell into silence, those who asked what was wrong-the muggleborn and the uninformed of the class-were speedily hushed by those who knew the stories of Potter and Malfoy, one the Boy Who Lived and the other the Deatheater Who Survived.
Longbottom cleared his throat and Albus realised that neither he nor Scorpius Malfoy had moved from their seats, which incidentally were on opposite sides of the greenhouse. Colour rose to his cheeks and Albus quickly collected together his things, hitching the strap of his school bag up on his shoulder and gathering his quill and Herbology textbook in his arms. Scorpius was the only one sat at his desk, a circle of unoccupied stools surrounding him. The empty stools could have just been from students moving around to meet their new partners or perhaps they had never been filled in the first place, Albus didn’t know. Either way, he took the seat at Scorpius’s right and just as he did so it seemed the blanket of silence was lifted from the class.
‘Hi,’ Albus said quietly, turning to face his new partner. Scorpius wasn’t looking at him, the boy’s ice blue eyes staring off into some unknown distance. Had he not heard?
‘Hi,’ Albus repeated, this time louder. A second or two passed before Scorpius seemed to acknowledge the fact that there was somebody sat beside him. With a start he looked to his right and Albus took this as a sign to smile meekly at the Slytherin boy.
‘Hello,’ Scorpius replied, though his voice sounded distant, as if he were thinking of something else.
It was then that Longbottom called out the final pair. Ambling his way to the teacher’s desk at the north end of the greenhouse the professor stowed the register back into his robe pocket, pulling out a wand in its stead.
‘Now that’s sorted,’ he said, ‘let’s get started with the lesson.’ With a quick flick of his wand Longbottom levitated sheets of parchment up from off the teacher’s desk, directing one sheet of parchment to every Slytherin-Gryffindor pair. Albus caught his in mid-air and saw writ upon it was a series of instructions, a very long series of instructions. For his first Herbology lesson, or more accurately his first ever lesson, there seemed to be a lot of things to do.
First on the list was to collect the equipment. That seemed basic enough. Albus stood up from his stool only to see that Scorpius already had the required equipment in his arms: a sample of White Dittany, pestle and mortar and various other things mentioned on the list.
‘I read what we needed over your shoulder,’ Scorpius said in answer to Albus’s unspoken question.
‘Oh.’
That was pretty much how the first half of the lesson panned out. Albus would read the instructions and get up to perform them only to find Scorpius had beaten him to it. In fact not only was Scorpius beating him but he was also beating the rest of the class, already weighing the White Dittany pollen whilst the rest of the pupils were still pulling the flowers from the stem of their sample plant. It was almost as if Scorpius was participating in a race, a race that only he was aware of and therefore was in the lead. Every now and then he would ask Albus to pass him something and Albus would do so willingly, in a partial state of shock at how fast the other boy was whizzing through the instructions Professor Longbottom had set out for them.
‘Can you hand me the knife?’
Albus picked the small knife from his side of the desk and passed it over to Scorpius who immediately began cutting the White Dittany stem with it with lightning speed. How the Slytherin didn’t manage to cut himself, Albus had no idea. But then a second later he heard a muffled shout of pain. Apparently Scorpius hadn’t managed to not cut himself after all.
Without thinking Albus reached over and took Scorpius’s hand in his. There was a long red cut upon the index finger, though not too deep. Albus opened his mouth to call Professor Longbottom-who was aiding another pair on the other side of the greenhouse-when Scorpius quickly hushed him.
‘Don’t call the professor,’ he said, steel blue eyes looking sternly into Albus’s green ones. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need to crush some dittany stem and put it on the cut.’ He tried to pull his hand from Albus’s hold but the other boy held on tight.
‘I’ll do it,’ Albus said. ‘You don’t have to do everything yourself.’ Scorpius hesitated before finally nodding his assent, at the nod Albus let go of his hand and reached for the pestle and mortar and a handful of sliced White Dittany stems.
‘So you’re a Potter then?’ Scorpius asked in a mummer.
‘Yeah, so?’ Albus replied, pausing as he crushed the stems. He looked over at Scorpius, expecting to see a scowl or some sort of resentment of the boy’s face-in the way of the Malfoys he had heard about, however all he saw was curiosity.
‘My father said Potters have a do-it-on-their-own thing,’ Scorpius muttered with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. ‘I thought he might have got it wrong because you weren’t really acting much like his version of Potters… until just then that is.’
‘Well that’s because you’re wounded,’ Albus retorted with a quiet huff. It only occurred to him later-and after hearing Scorpius’s laughter-how silly that sounded.
‘Wounded?’ Scorpius said in between his hiccups of amusement. ‘You mean this?’ He held his cut index finger aloft in front of his face to inspect it. ‘Tis but a scratch.’
Albus rolled his eyes but felt the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. ‘You talk weird.’
‘It’s called good upbringing,’ Scorpius said with a mixture of haughtiness and humour. ‘My father said that mastery of the English language proves good upbringing.’
‘Your father said a lot of things.’ Albus grinned and before Scorpius could reply he held the mortar-half-filled with the slosh of crushed dittany stem-out for the other boy to take. ‘Squished enough?’
Scorpius raised a pale blonde eyebrow at Albus before turning his eyes to the mortar and its contents.
‘Squished plenty,’ he agreed, dipping his cut finger into the crushed stem, when he brought it out again all that remained was a faint red line healed flesh where the open cut had once been. ‘Thanks.’
‘I see you’re experiences the healing properties of White Dittany first hand.’ Professor Longbottom was standing at their desk, although his arms were crossed over his chest his face was smiling, grinning almost. ‘Need I remind you two that you’re in a Herbology lesson, not a Potions one?’
‘No Professor,’ Scorpius said at the same time Albus muttered, ‘Sorry Professor.’
‘But I have to say I’m pleased with your show of House Unity,’ Longbottom went on and before walking away he added, ‘five points each to Slytherin and Gryffindor.’
¤
‘You know you were the first Gryffindor first year to get house points,’ Daniel said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. ‘I don’t know how you managed it. I hated working with Septimus Avery. It was like working with pure evil.’
It was lunchtime and the Great Hall was filled with the voices of chattering students and the clank of cutlery on plates. Albus was sat at the Gryffindor table next to Daniel Coote, eating his fill of the bountiful food before them. The two of them had made friends when they had sat together at the Welcome Feast the night before. Apparently Daniel’s dad (Robbie or Ritchie or something) had played Quidditch with Albus’s own dad back when they were both in Hogwarts. The loose family connection was enough of a conversation starter as any.
‘I was with this girl called Stephanie Flint and she was horrible.’ These words came from the slightly chubby boy sat opposite Albus whose name was Martin Finch-Fletchley. Albus had learnt that morning at breakfast that both Martin’s mum and dad had been Hufflepuffs when they had been at Hogwarts, and of course being placed in Gryffindor was quite a shock for the family.
‘A girl? Marty, you’re such a wuss,’ said the pig-tailed, dark-skinned girl called Cassandra Thomas (or Cassie, as she preferred it) who was sat next to Martin. She turned her hazel eyes towards Albus who had been silently munching on a sausage during the conversation. ‘So are you friends with Malfoy boy then? That’s odd.’
Friends? Just because he and Scorpius hadn’t fought during Herbology like everyone else seemed to have done didn’t suddenly make them friends, although he had to admit that he didn’t particularly mind the term. However Albus didn’t bother saying his thoughts out loud, instead he asked, ‘Why’s that odd?’
‘I dunno,’ Cassie said, shrugging. ‘When Dad talked about Hogwarts he always used to say that Malfoy’s dad and your dad were like enemies or something.’
‘My Dad’s only enemy was Voldemort,’ Albus said automatically and stuffed the remainder of the sausage in his mouth so he didn’t have to talk anymore. A blonde figure caught his eye. Scorpius had entered the Great Hall, sitting down at the far end of the Slytherin table, the end of the table completely clear of people, and helping himself to a jacket potato from the bowl in front of him. Why wasn’t Scorpius sitting with the other Slytherin first years? It didn’t make sense.
Realising that he was staring at someone eating Albus brought his attention back to the conversation at the Gryffindor table.
‘…Next lesson?’ he caught the end of what Daniel had been saying.
Cassie hurriedly pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the front pocket of her school bag. ‘Next lesson is History of Magic. Then afterwards… cool, Defence Against the Dark Arts, I’ve been looking forward to that.’
¤
An arrangement had been made. Since there were only three Gryffindor boys in first year (a new low according to Nearly Headless Nick, the House ghost), Albus, Daniel and Martin had agreed to swap around when it came to who sat with whom during lessons. During the double Herbology lesson that morning Albus and Daniel had sat together, at least for the beginning of it, and Martin had sat on his own at the adjacent desk. For History of Magic Albus had agreed to sit with Martin and for Defence Against the Dark Arts it was Albus’s turn to sit at a desk alone.
The three of them trundled alongside each other as they made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the first floor of the Hogwarts castle. Albus was exceptionally tired, not just from the trek it had taken him to get to each lesson but due to the excessive boredom he had to go through whilst sat in History of Magic, listening the droning voice of Professor Binns the ghost teacher going on and on about the excitement of magical history in a completely unexciting manner.
‘I’ve never been so bored in my life,’ Martin had said when the lesson finished. ‘I was so bored I thought for sure I’d turn into a ghost as well.’
They had walked so slowly that they were the last in the class to reach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Daniel and Martin said their goodbyes as they walked to an empty desk at the front of the class, leaving Albus searching for an empty desk of his own to sit at. There was one, in the far back corner of the classroom. He went over to it and let out a sigh. He doubted very much that he would be able to make out writing blackboard from so far, although his eyesight was quite a bit better than his dad’s Albus still didn’t have perfect vision. He had heard good things about Defence Against the Dark Arts and he didn’t want to miss anything because he couldn’t see what was written of the board.
His eyes then fell once more upon Scorpius Malfoy’s blonde hair. He was sat on his own just like he had been for Herbology and History of Magic. Taking in a deep breath Albus made his way over to the boy. It was not like they hated each other anyway.
‘Hey, can I sit here?’ he asked in the friendliest voice he could muster.
Scorpius lifted his head to look up at him and for a second Albus thought he was about to say no until a flash of recognition crossed the blonde boy’s face.
‘Really? I mean, yes, of course.’ He pulled his school bag off the chair next to him and offered it to Albus.
Albus smiled and plonked himself down on the seat, relieved, and held out his hand towards Scorpius. ‘I know you know who I am and everything and I know who you are and everything but Dad always told me it was polite to shake hands and stuff and properly introduce yourself to people even if they know who you are,’ he said in one long blurb. He took a moment to catch his breath before he added, ‘I’m Albus Potter.’
‘Scorpius Malfoy,’ Scorpius said, smiling also. He took Albus’s hand and shook it. ‘Nice to meet you.’
( Next Chapter )
Title: ZODIAC
Chapter: 01 - House Unity
Rating: PG (for now)
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius (in the future)
Words: 3,665
Warnings: Impending Slash, Deathly Hallow Spoilers, un-beta'd
Summary: Friendship can creep up on a person without them realising it, so can love.
Notes: This fanfiction was spawned from this thread in the AS/S community,
the_ass_ship .
The boy now sat upon the three-legged stool had been there for almost a minute. A tattered old wizard’s hat covered the top half of the boy’s face, hiding his silvery blue eyes and platinum blonde hair under its worn out fabric. Scorpius Malfoy was his name and he had spent longer on the stool than any of the other first years before him.
Albus Potter was confused. His Uncle Ron had told him about the Malfoys, that they were Slytherins through and through without a drop of doubt. However the hat had not screamed ‘SLYTHERIN!’ as soon as it touched Scorpius’s head like it had done for the Avery boy earlier, no the hat remained silent, and for a very long time.
It seemed Albus was not the only person confused. Eyes all over the Great Hall were looking at Scorpius with curiosity, even those who did not know of the famous Malfoy name. The boy on the stool was chewing his bottom lip anxiously. What would happen if the Sorting Hat couldn't choose? Albus had begun to get just as nervous as the boy when suddenly the fabric of the hat tore open, revealing something akin to a mouth, letting out a yell of, ‘SLYTHERIN!’
Pulling the hat off his head, Scorpius jumped off the stool as if it was a hot poker and made his way towards the Slytherin table, followed by an almost inaudible patter of applause.
Shuffling forward Albus watched the next person (‘Veronica Peakes’) take seat on the stool. ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ the hat yelled after two seconds of sitting atop the girl’s light brown hair. As Veronica hurried happily off to the table of her new House, the applause of the Hufflepuffs in her wake, Albus swallowed a lungful of air in anticipation.
Professor Longbottom gave him a small smile before calling his name and Albus felt obliged to smile back. He had known the professor for almost all his life, Longbottom was one of his dad’s closest friends, the two having known each other since the first year of Hogwarts. Longbottom would always come over for Christmas and New Year’s, each time ruffling Albus’s hair and saying things along the lines of, ‘You look so much like your Dad, you know?’ obviously meaning for the words to be complimentary.
Harry Potter was the saviour of the wizarding world after all. Therefore looking like a miniature version of him would be a good thing in most people’s eyes. Albus had thought so too when he was young, but after a while the words that had once filled him with pride ended up falling empty at his ears as the years went on. They were words that he felt people just said because they couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Albus had seen the photos of his father as a child and he had to admit there was a striking resemblance between them. But there were differences too, the main one being-and this was the one everyone noticed-that the bridge of Albus’s nose was void of glasses. He also had-splattered like bronze dust across his cheekbones-an array of soft freckles, and his hair shone a deep mahogany in the light, unlike the ebony mane of his father. However nobody ever seemed to focus on the differences, just the similarities. It annoyed Albus to no end.
‘Albus Potter?’ The second calling of his name broke Albus from his thoughts and, blushing, he walked slowly up to the stool, letting Professor Longbottom drop the Sorting Hat on his head. It fell over his eyes and the Great Hall disappear from view.
A Potter, eh? The voice seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, although not much like your brother. Albus couldn’t help but feel glad to hear that.
You have ambition I see, the hat went on. Ambition to live past the reputation your father has bestowed upon you. Slytherin would be nice for that; you will make a great friend there this year if you were to be a Slytherin.
Remembering the taunting words of his brother, Albus quickly shook his head. The oversized hat wobbled slightly.
No, he thought, Dad said I could choose and I don’t want to be in Slytherin. If a hat could raise an eyebrow-and if it had an eyebrow to raise-the Sorting Hat would have done just that.
Your father didn’t want to be in Slytherin either, such a shame. Both of you would have done well, it spoke in Albus’s mind. You’re a bright lad too so maybe… Ravenclaw? No, no, it won’t suit you. Hufflepuff perchance, I see some loyalty in you. No, not that either. I suppose I’ll be placing another Potter in…
‘GRYFFINDOR!’ the hat bellowed and Albus could hear the eruption of applause from the Gryffindor table upon hearing that they had landed themselves another Potter. Albus couldn’t help but feel relieved.
¤
The flimsy plant Professor Longbottom lifted to show the class looked-at least in Albus’s opinion-just like any other plant. It had leaves of which were green, like any other plant, and it had flowers too-something else not uncommon to see on other plants-of a pleasantly average pale lilac colour. There was nothing at all spectacular about its appearance, but of course Professor Longbottom thought otherwise.
‘White Dittany,’ the Herbology professor said, holding the plant in a way, and with such a proud look upon his face, it was almost as if he had the Quidditch World Cup in his grasp, ‘is one of the most wildly used healing herbs in the world, as well as one of the most effective herbs when it comes to the majority of physical injuries.’
Albus watched as the still-talking Professor Longbottom strode casually around the inside of the greenhouse, weaving in between the various desks and potted plants that filled the crowded space.
‘Other names for White Dittany,’ Professor Longbottom carried on, ‘include False Dittany and the latin name Dictamnus albus.’
Albus glanced up through the messy strands of his hair at what he had thought was the mention of his name. Green eyes (‘Just like your Dad’s,’ many a person said) noticed the smile playing on Longbottom’s friendly face and Albus smiled faintly back. So his name not only belonged to one of the greatest Headmasters of Hogwarts but also a stupid healing herb. What part of him was his own?
‘For you first Herbology lesson I would like you to learn how to extract the healing properties from White Dittany to make a paste used often in healing potions,’ Professor Longbottom said, turning back to the rest of the class. ‘I would like you to do this in pairs and these pairs will be kept throughout the first school term.’
The greenhouse was filled with the shuffling sound of feet as the first year students moved to find a partner. Albus felt a nudge from the seat next to him. He turned to see Daniel Coote, a mousy brown-haired fellow Gryffindor first year, grinning and mouthing the words, ‘Wanna be my partner?’ Albus was about mouth his own reply of ‘Alright then’ back when Professor Longbottom’s voice rose again above the noise.
‘Hold on a minute,’ he said, ‘what’s all this Gryffindors with Gryffindors and Slytherins with Slytherins I’m seeing?’ The question was evidently rhetorically because he didn’t allow time for any answers, continuing to talk in his happy voice. ‘This isn’t promoting House unity at all! Friends shouldn’t be just made in your own House… integrate.’ At that word Longbottom pulled out the class register from his robe pocket and began running his finger down the list of names.
‘Rightio…’ he began, ‘Septimus Avery from Slytherin with… let’s see, the first Gryffindor on the register is… Daniel Coote.’ At the sound of his name Daniel slowly stood from his seat and sat in the empty one at Septimus’s desk. Albus gave him a solemn nod before he left, a nod a soldier would give a comrade about to stand at the frontline of battle.
Longbottom continued to call out further pairs of names and forming further unenthusiastic Slytherin-Gryffindor partnerships without hesitation; that was, until he reached the letter ‘M’ on the register.
‘Oh,’ the professor said, his voice sounded suddenly sheepish. ‘Um next on the register is Scorpius Malfoy and… um… Albus Potter. Well that’s interesting.’
Interesting indeed. The professor looked torn between feigning worry and bursting into laughter. The rest of the class fell into silence, those who asked what was wrong-the muggleborn and the uninformed of the class-were speedily hushed by those who knew the stories of Potter and Malfoy, one the Boy Who Lived and the other the Deatheater Who Survived.
Longbottom cleared his throat and Albus realised that neither he nor Scorpius Malfoy had moved from their seats, which incidentally were on opposite sides of the greenhouse. Colour rose to his cheeks and Albus quickly collected together his things, hitching the strap of his school bag up on his shoulder and gathering his quill and Herbology textbook in his arms. Scorpius was the only one sat at his desk, a circle of unoccupied stools surrounding him. The empty stools could have just been from students moving around to meet their new partners or perhaps they had never been filled in the first place, Albus didn’t know. Either way, he took the seat at Scorpius’s right and just as he did so it seemed the blanket of silence was lifted from the class.
‘Hi,’ Albus said quietly, turning to face his new partner. Scorpius wasn’t looking at him, the boy’s ice blue eyes staring off into some unknown distance. Had he not heard?
‘Hi,’ Albus repeated, this time louder. A second or two passed before Scorpius seemed to acknowledge the fact that there was somebody sat beside him. With a start he looked to his right and Albus took this as a sign to smile meekly at the Slytherin boy.
‘Hello,’ Scorpius replied, though his voice sounded distant, as if he were thinking of something else.
It was then that Longbottom called out the final pair. Ambling his way to the teacher’s desk at the north end of the greenhouse the professor stowed the register back into his robe pocket, pulling out a wand in its stead.
‘Now that’s sorted,’ he said, ‘let’s get started with the lesson.’ With a quick flick of his wand Longbottom levitated sheets of parchment up from off the teacher’s desk, directing one sheet of parchment to every Slytherin-Gryffindor pair. Albus caught his in mid-air and saw writ upon it was a series of instructions, a very long series of instructions. For his first Herbology lesson, or more accurately his first ever lesson, there seemed to be a lot of things to do.
First on the list was to collect the equipment. That seemed basic enough. Albus stood up from his stool only to see that Scorpius already had the required equipment in his arms: a sample of White Dittany, pestle and mortar and various other things mentioned on the list.
‘I read what we needed over your shoulder,’ Scorpius said in answer to Albus’s unspoken question.
‘Oh.’
That was pretty much how the first half of the lesson panned out. Albus would read the instructions and get up to perform them only to find Scorpius had beaten him to it. In fact not only was Scorpius beating him but he was also beating the rest of the class, already weighing the White Dittany pollen whilst the rest of the pupils were still pulling the flowers from the stem of their sample plant. It was almost as if Scorpius was participating in a race, a race that only he was aware of and therefore was in the lead. Every now and then he would ask Albus to pass him something and Albus would do so willingly, in a partial state of shock at how fast the other boy was whizzing through the instructions Professor Longbottom had set out for them.
‘Can you hand me the knife?’
Albus picked the small knife from his side of the desk and passed it over to Scorpius who immediately began cutting the White Dittany stem with it with lightning speed. How the Slytherin didn’t manage to cut himself, Albus had no idea. But then a second later he heard a muffled shout of pain. Apparently Scorpius hadn’t managed to not cut himself after all.
Without thinking Albus reached over and took Scorpius’s hand in his. There was a long red cut upon the index finger, though not too deep. Albus opened his mouth to call Professor Longbottom-who was aiding another pair on the other side of the greenhouse-when Scorpius quickly hushed him.
‘Don’t call the professor,’ he said, steel blue eyes looking sternly into Albus’s green ones. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need to crush some dittany stem and put it on the cut.’ He tried to pull his hand from Albus’s hold but the other boy held on tight.
‘I’ll do it,’ Albus said. ‘You don’t have to do everything yourself.’ Scorpius hesitated before finally nodding his assent, at the nod Albus let go of his hand and reached for the pestle and mortar and a handful of sliced White Dittany stems.
‘So you’re a Potter then?’ Scorpius asked in a mummer.
‘Yeah, so?’ Albus replied, pausing as he crushed the stems. He looked over at Scorpius, expecting to see a scowl or some sort of resentment of the boy’s face-in the way of the Malfoys he had heard about, however all he saw was curiosity.
‘My father said Potters have a do-it-on-their-own thing,’ Scorpius muttered with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. ‘I thought he might have got it wrong because you weren’t really acting much like his version of Potters… until just then that is.’
‘Well that’s because you’re wounded,’ Albus retorted with a quiet huff. It only occurred to him later-and after hearing Scorpius’s laughter-how silly that sounded.
‘Wounded?’ Scorpius said in between his hiccups of amusement. ‘You mean this?’ He held his cut index finger aloft in front of his face to inspect it. ‘Tis but a scratch.’
Albus rolled his eyes but felt the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. ‘You talk weird.’
‘It’s called good upbringing,’ Scorpius said with a mixture of haughtiness and humour. ‘My father said that mastery of the English language proves good upbringing.’
‘Your father said a lot of things.’ Albus grinned and before Scorpius could reply he held the mortar-half-filled with the slosh of crushed dittany stem-out for the other boy to take. ‘Squished enough?’
Scorpius raised a pale blonde eyebrow at Albus before turning his eyes to the mortar and its contents.
‘Squished plenty,’ he agreed, dipping his cut finger into the crushed stem, when he brought it out again all that remained was a faint red line healed flesh where the open cut had once been. ‘Thanks.’
‘I see you’re experiences the healing properties of White Dittany first hand.’ Professor Longbottom was standing at their desk, although his arms were crossed over his chest his face was smiling, grinning almost. ‘Need I remind you two that you’re in a Herbology lesson, not a Potions one?’
‘No Professor,’ Scorpius said at the same time Albus muttered, ‘Sorry Professor.’
‘But I have to say I’m pleased with your show of House Unity,’ Longbottom went on and before walking away he added, ‘five points each to Slytherin and Gryffindor.’
¤
‘You know you were the first Gryffindor first year to get house points,’ Daniel said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. ‘I don’t know how you managed it. I hated working with Septimus Avery. It was like working with pure evil.’
It was lunchtime and the Great Hall was filled with the voices of chattering students and the clank of cutlery on plates. Albus was sat at the Gryffindor table next to Daniel Coote, eating his fill of the bountiful food before them. The two of them had made friends when they had sat together at the Welcome Feast the night before. Apparently Daniel’s dad (Robbie or Ritchie or something) had played Quidditch with Albus’s own dad back when they were both in Hogwarts. The loose family connection was enough of a conversation starter as any.
‘I was with this girl called Stephanie Flint and she was horrible.’ These words came from the slightly chubby boy sat opposite Albus whose name was Martin Finch-Fletchley. Albus had learnt that morning at breakfast that both Martin’s mum and dad had been Hufflepuffs when they had been at Hogwarts, and of course being placed in Gryffindor was quite a shock for the family.
‘A girl? Marty, you’re such a wuss,’ said the pig-tailed, dark-skinned girl called Cassandra Thomas (or Cassie, as she preferred it) who was sat next to Martin. She turned her hazel eyes towards Albus who had been silently munching on a sausage during the conversation. ‘So are you friends with Malfoy boy then? That’s odd.’
Friends? Just because he and Scorpius hadn’t fought during Herbology like everyone else seemed to have done didn’t suddenly make them friends, although he had to admit that he didn’t particularly mind the term. However Albus didn’t bother saying his thoughts out loud, instead he asked, ‘Why’s that odd?’
‘I dunno,’ Cassie said, shrugging. ‘When Dad talked about Hogwarts he always used to say that Malfoy’s dad and your dad were like enemies or something.’
‘My Dad’s only enemy was Voldemort,’ Albus said automatically and stuffed the remainder of the sausage in his mouth so he didn’t have to talk anymore. A blonde figure caught his eye. Scorpius had entered the Great Hall, sitting down at the far end of the Slytherin table, the end of the table completely clear of people, and helping himself to a jacket potato from the bowl in front of him. Why wasn’t Scorpius sitting with the other Slytherin first years? It didn’t make sense.
Realising that he was staring at someone eating Albus brought his attention back to the conversation at the Gryffindor table.
‘…Next lesson?’ he caught the end of what Daniel had been saying.
Cassie hurriedly pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the front pocket of her school bag. ‘Next lesson is History of Magic. Then afterwards… cool, Defence Against the Dark Arts, I’ve been looking forward to that.’
¤
An arrangement had been made. Since there were only three Gryffindor boys in first year (a new low according to Nearly Headless Nick, the House ghost), Albus, Daniel and Martin had agreed to swap around when it came to who sat with whom during lessons. During the double Herbology lesson that morning Albus and Daniel had sat together, at least for the beginning of it, and Martin had sat on his own at the adjacent desk. For History of Magic Albus had agreed to sit with Martin and for Defence Against the Dark Arts it was Albus’s turn to sit at a desk alone.
The three of them trundled alongside each other as they made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the first floor of the Hogwarts castle. Albus was exceptionally tired, not just from the trek it had taken him to get to each lesson but due to the excessive boredom he had to go through whilst sat in History of Magic, listening the droning voice of Professor Binns the ghost teacher going on and on about the excitement of magical history in a completely unexciting manner.
‘I’ve never been so bored in my life,’ Martin had said when the lesson finished. ‘I was so bored I thought for sure I’d turn into a ghost as well.’
They had walked so slowly that they were the last in the class to reach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Daniel and Martin said their goodbyes as they walked to an empty desk at the front of the class, leaving Albus searching for an empty desk of his own to sit at. There was one, in the far back corner of the classroom. He went over to it and let out a sigh. He doubted very much that he would be able to make out writing blackboard from so far, although his eyesight was quite a bit better than his dad’s Albus still didn’t have perfect vision. He had heard good things about Defence Against the Dark Arts and he didn’t want to miss anything because he couldn’t see what was written of the board.
His eyes then fell once more upon Scorpius Malfoy’s blonde hair. He was sat on his own just like he had been for Herbology and History of Magic. Taking in a deep breath Albus made his way over to the boy. It was not like they hated each other anyway.
‘Hey, can I sit here?’ he asked in the friendliest voice he could muster.
Scorpius lifted his head to look up at him and for a second Albus thought he was about to say no until a flash of recognition crossed the blonde boy’s face.
‘Really? I mean, yes, of course.’ He pulled his school bag off the chair next to him and offered it to Albus.
Albus smiled and plonked himself down on the seat, relieved, and held out his hand towards Scorpius. ‘I know you know who I am and everything and I know who you are and everything but Dad always told me it was polite to shake hands and stuff and properly introduce yourself to people even if they know who you are,’ he said in one long blurb. He took a moment to catch his breath before he added, ‘I’m Albus Potter.’
‘Scorpius Malfoy,’ Scorpius said, smiling also. He took Albus’s hand and shook it. ‘Nice to meet you.’
( Next Chapter )