The Wrongs of the Past

PROLOGUE

"Albus Severus Potter."

The weight of his name hung in the air, settling like a heavy blanket over the babble and cheer of the Great Hall. The silence that followed was louder than any shout could ever be, all their eyes were on him, all their expectations that he couldn't possibly fill curling his thin shoulders. Albus clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists to hide their trembling as he made his way over to Hagrid. His giant of a friend lending no comfort.

With far more ceremony than was shown to the other students, Hagrid delicately lowered the pointed, leathery hat over Albus's head; as reverently as he would a crown. It seemed to Albus that the entire world was holding its breath.

Ahh, a weathered voice rasped in his head. Albus stifled the urge to yelp, he'd known what would happen - of course he had - but the invasion of such an ancient conscious in his brain was still startling. I haven't seen a mind as fruitful with possibilities as yours since the time of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Wha- what do you mean?" Albus stuttered, not sure whether the Hat's statement was a good thing or a bad thing.

There's no such thing as black and white, Albus Severus Potter, only the grey between.

"I don't understand," he whispered, eyes darting around all the faces watching, waiting. Finally his gaze settled on his brother, James who was grinning expectantly, a space reserved by his side. "What does this have to do with my sorting?"

You long to be with your Brother, eh? To follow in your Father's footsteps. But you weren't born to follow, young Potter.

Albus's eyes slid, almost of their own accord, towards the opposite side of the Great Hall, the students there held the same rapt expressions as the Gryffindors, despite being decked in Slytherin's green and silver.

That is where you belong, boy.

"N-no... But James and Rose and-"

Are not you. Your Father already walked the path of Gryffindor, your Brother already upholds his legacy but you, Albus, are needed elsewhere. You, and you alone, can untarnish the great name of Slytherin.

Albus looked more closely at the far table, focusing on the slender, silver haired boy James had pointed out, with obvious distaste, on the train. Scorpius Malfoy. He remembered Scorpius's sorting, the sneers and eye rolls peppered in with the whoops and cheers as the boy had stalked, with a face like carved ice, towards the Slytherin table.

He wasn't even given a chance, Albus thought sadly, studying his blank expression and tense shoulders. They think he's trouble because he's a Malfoy and being in Slytherin only confirmed it.

"That's not right." Albus whispered, a burning need for justice igniting in his heart. He took one last look at his brother, at the path he could've chosen. Oddly enough, it was James's words that solidified his choice.

"Look out for that one, Al." His brother had hissed in his ear, pointing through the bustle of King's Cross Station at pale, lonely looking boy. "He's a Malfoy, and bound to be in Slytherin."

It seems you have made your decision, eh? The Sorting Hat growled. And a brave one at that. Maybe you should go to Gryffindor after all? But no, best to place you in...

"SLYTHERIN!"