Albus Potter and the Tri-Wizard Tournament (Next-Gen HP Fan-Fic)

Prolouge: Not Slytherin

They were loaded into the boats, eight passengers each, and one by one the boats glided across the water. The only one who didn't seem surprised to see the warm white aura glow around the castle, as if radiating with the happiness of all the returning students, was Isabella. She sat behind him, very interested in the chipping nail polish on her small nails. A large man, almost giant, awaited them on the shore. He was tall, towering over all the first years as they tumbled out of the boats, and sported a bushy brown beard. A few white hairs have grown in around his years and in his eyebrows.

"One by one, get out of the boats!" he said with a thundering, yet kind, voice, "Oi! No shoving! The name's Hagrid. I'll be escorting all ye first years to the Main Hall for the sorting ceremony. Oi! I said no pushing!" He had pointed at one of the scrawny boys in the back.

From the stories Albus had recognized the boy in the back at Scorpius Malfoy. He was thin, unnaturally pale, and had ear length, perfectly straight, silvery blonde hair. He was not the one pushing other kids, though. He was the one being bullied by a trio of rounded, taller boys. Rubbing the back of his head, he saw Albus starring and sent him a glare.

There were a set of stone steps at the edge of the water that curved up into the castle. The first year students followed the giant up the stairs and into the castle. Each stone, Albus noticed, was different from the last. Some were heavily aged, wrinkled from being cut and weathered, others polished and smooth. Caddles floated above them instead of a delicate chandelier and torches lined the walls. The headmistress really did like using as much light as possible to brighten the otherwise dull corridors. Sure there were some elegant carvings here and there, but most the refurbishment hasn't been completed.

They marched together to the top before being stopped by a pair of tall, blackened brass doors. The giant turned to them first years again. "Best you all wait here. Mr. Filch will fetch ya when the Sorting Ceremony has started," he then looked sternly at Albus, but spoke to the class, "Stay put." He disappeared between the doors, golden light spilled from the part. Albus could hear the thundering of his boots on the stone along with merry chatting.

"Oh, I can't wait," whispered Isabella. The other students all talked amongst themselves about their excitement to sit on the stool and be declared -- not Slytherin!

Albus could. His stomach shifted inside him, grumbling with a soft protest: Not Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin. If there was one thing he had to admit to himself, then he'd have to admit he was a little relieved all this suspense would soon be over. Once he was sorted into a house, then that was it. That was the beginning of school, that was the start of classes, that was the creation of a home away from home. A wrinkled man opened the doors, a cat on his shoulder. He sneered at the first years and gestured with a nod of his head for them to follow.

The Great Hall was decorated with a night sky and delicate floating candles. Four long tables stretch to the front of the room. Albus saw James Sirius Potter sitting in the middle of the table to his right. His older brother winked at him as he passed and applauded with the rest of the room. For banners were draped above the tables. A red one, with the crest of a golden lion, above James's table: Gryffindor. A blue one off to the right crested with a black raven holding a scroll in one tallon: Ravenclaw. To his left, a bright and sunny yellow flag with black pinstripes and a honey badger sitting cheerfully in the center: Hufflepuff. Lastly, the green flag striped silver and bearing a grinning snake: the house he dreaded would be his.

A young woman with a soft smile and kind eyes stood in front of Headmistress McGonagall, a list rolled up in her hands. She wore a short, yet modest cloak, a small barret pinning the waves of her brunette hair back, and a pair of blue chucks. She did not look like the typical Hogwarts Professor. Unlike the young woman, McGonagall has not been treated kindly by age. A tall, green velvet hat tilted just stray of straight off her head and her matching robe was elegantly draped over her tall form.

"Welcome, students, to Hogwart's school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said the headmistress, who then gestured to the younger woman.

"Right, I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Hurrwood," she introduces with a soft smile, "I'll call each of you up by name. When you stand before your peers, I'll place the sorting hat on your head and you'll be sorted into your houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." She unraveled the scroll and began to call out names.

"Lysander Scamander." A plump boy with sandy hair curling just past his ears. He shyfly inched his way up the steps and sat on the stool. Professor Hurrwood dropped the hat on his head. The creases in the old material fold into a frowning face. It moved it's mouth back and forth as if thinking before hollering with a loud voice that bounced off the Great Hall ceiling, "Ravenclaw!" A round of applause for the boy as he tripped on his way to the Ravenclaw table.

"Scorpius Malfoy," said the professor. The scrawny boy made his way to the stool and the hat, without touching a hair on his head, declared "Slytherin!" No one was surprised, his table hooted for the arrival of the next Malfoy -- though others sneered in disgust.

"Isabella Jean McGonagall," the list continued. And the hat announced, "Slytherin!" Hearing the name out loud twisted his gut. He was inches away for the professor to call his name. He was a few meters away from sitting on the stood himself, from the hat declaring him not Slytherin.

"Rose Weasley." His fiery red haired cousin skipped to the front and plopped on the seat. The hat declared, "Gryffindor!" Her table erupts into cheers, yet another Weasley at the table of lions.

"Albus Potter." He took a breath. He would be fine. Nothing can go wrong. He stepped up to the stool, slowly turned to see the flags as the hat was placed on his head. It was heavy with possibilities, a weight on his shoulders. He chanted in his head his request, he begged the hat to please not put him where he dreaded. He knew he would be fine so long as he didn't get- "Slytherin!"