Disclaimer: Only J.K. Rowling could come up with a name like Scorpius,
so this is clearly her universe, and I’m just in it for
the LOLZ the
love of the Malfoys.
The Sorting of Scorpius Malfoy
The Morning Starr
ten minutes, it would be the first of September, and the inhabitants of le Château were fast asleep. It wasn’t actually a castle, of course. Le
Château was much more like a largish cottage with a few greenhouses on the
property and a small shack used for brewing potions. But to the family that lived there, it was
quite like a castle because—as the lady of the house always put it—they were
rich in the love they had for one another.
At midnight a pair of pale grey eyes popped open, and Scorpius Malfoy was awake yet
again. Ordinarily he was a sound
sleeper, but tonight was no ordinary night.
Tonight was the night before he went to Hogwarts, and every time he was
finally able to drift off to sleep, he would dream of what the next day had in
store for him and any hopes of getting some decent rest would vanish with each
The anxiety had been building over the past week, ever
since his parents had taken him to Diagon Alley for
his school things. Hogwarts had been
little more than a dream until a few weeks ago.
had taught at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for years
and wanted him to go there, but in the end his father prevailed, and an owl was
sent to Hogwarts. Scorpius
had been simultaneously thrilled and terrified.
Hogwarts… he was actually going…
He woke again at half-past two. What if no one liked him? What if he didn’t make any friends? He wasn’t blind. He could see that his parents had lots of
friends when they lived in France,
but after they had moved to England
to be closer to his ailing grandmother, social calls came to an abrupt
halt. At first he thought they were just
too focused on his grandmother’s health to be bothered with parties and visits,
but in the three years since her recovery the socializing had never started
again, save for their holidays in France and the occasional afternoon
with the Zabinis.
What if the same thing happened to him? What if, for some reason, he was easily
likeable in France, but
couldn’t make friends in England? Maybe he was better off at Beauxbatons.
But there was something about Hogwarts that captured his
imagination. Perhaps it was the simple
fact that he had never been there, or maybe it was just because his father had
gone there. Scorpius
yearned to see where his father had grown up, where he played Seeker on his
House team, where he had been made prefect and Head Boy. Would Scorpius be
able to accomplish those things too?
At four o’clock he sat up in his plush bed, thinking
about the four Hogwarts Houses. He had
read about them over the past weeks and knew that most of his father’s family
had been in Slytherin, but he didn’t know whether he
was the kind of pupil Salazar Slytherin would have
felt far from cunning, unless his successful plot to get his father to buy him the
latest racing broom counted, and his only ambition at the moment was to make a
friend or two so that he wouldn’t spend the next seven years of his life wishing
he had gone to Beauxbatons. But would he fit in with another House, say Hufflepuff or Gryffindor?
He didn’t exactly feel that he was particularly hardworking or brave,
really. He’d learned a lot at an early
age, though, thanks to his parents.
Maybe he was smart enough for Ravenclaw? Blue was his favorite color…
At ten after six he realized that any further attempts at
sleep were futile. He washed up,
selected his lucky robes from the wardrobe, and made for the kitchen, where he
hoped Biddle, the house-elf, would make him some fresh croissants. After that, he would take his Peregrine 900
for one last spin around the grounds before saying goodbye to it until the
Christmas holiday. It was woefully
unfair that first-years were not allowed their own broomsticks.
“Be sure to write home at least once a week.”
“And stay out of trouble.”
“Be confident. Your
maman was a
teacher and you have been instructed in most of the basics already.”
“Which means there is no reason not to
“Send word with Havelock
tonight after the Welcoming Feast.”
“We’ll want to know how the Sorting went.”
“If you’ve forgotten anything, we’ll…”
Scorpius stopped listening
while his parents continued to ramble.
He didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but he was entranced by the great
red steam engine and the swarms of kids and families running around the platform. He wanted desperately to run around with all
the other kids and wondered if next year he would be one of the many who were greeted
by their schoolmates with hugs and excited stories of summer holidays.
“…don’t forget to write to your grandparents on
occasion,” his maman
was saying when his attention meandered its way back to his parents. “They may not admit it, but they hate being
in Malfoy Manor all by themselves.”
She winked at him and ruffled his pale hair. Scorpius tried to
duck out of her reach and made to neaten it again before his father had a
chance to comment disapprovingly, but no such comment came. In fact, Draco was staring off into the
distance. Apparently he recognized
someone, because he nodded as though in greeting and then turned back to Scorpius. Eager to
see if it was the Zabinis, Scorpius
looked in the direction of his father’s nod, but all he could see was a big
family and lots of red hair before the steam blocked his view again.
Confused, Scorpius turned back
to his maman,
who was still going on about all the things he should remember to do and say,
how proper enunciation could mean the difference between a needle and a Nogtail, and how meticulous attention to detail is a potion
master’s best trait. Scorpius
nodded mindlessly; his thoughts consumed by the faraway look in his father’s
“Lucette,” Draco finally said,
coming out of his trance-like state, “Scorpius should
probably board the train before it
He smiled at his wife, but there was a note of finality
in his voice, and with a last (seemingly endless) hug from his maman and an
encouraging nod from his father, Scorpius climbed
aboard the Hogwarts Express and began the daunting task of choosing a
“Do you mind?
Everywhere else is full.”
Scorpius jumped at the voice;
he hadn’t even heard the compartment door slide open. He had managed to find an empty compartment straight
away and had been lost in thought about Sorting and Houses and friends again
since the moment he sat down.
A girl and a slightly familiar-looking boy stood in the
doorway. The boy was about Scorpius’s height and weight, but other than that looked almost
like his opposite, with dark, messy hair and bright green eyes. The girl was a few inches taller, with curly
red hair and freckles. She was already
in her Hogwarts robes.
Scorpius nodded and the two
filed in, each carrying an owl, and sat on the bench across from him.
“Rose Weasley,” the girl said,
extending her hand.
Scorpius took her hand,
surprised at the force with which she shook it.
“Scorpius,” he said, and then as an afterthought,
He was ready for them to laugh; Blair Zabini
teased him mercilessly about his name.
But neither of them seemed interested in teasing him.
“You needn’t be so polite,” he told them, “I know my name
At this, the dark-haired boy did chuckle, but it was not
“No worries, mate,” he said,
“mine is quite the mouthful as well.” He
too extended his hand. “Albus. Severus. Potter. But you can
call me Al.”
Potter. That’s why he looked so familiar. Now that the connection had been made, Scorpius realized that he looked just like the pictures of
Harry Potter he’d seen in history books and on the Chocolate Frog Cards.
“I think our dads knew each other at school, Scorpius,” Rose said.
Scorpius was uncertain whether
to be comforted or worried by this. His
father rarely mentioned his schoolmates, and Scorpius
gathered that perhaps he didn’t quite approve of them. What if Scorpius
was expected to avoid these two and didn’t know it? He briefly considered taking out a book and
pretending to read it in order to avoid further conversation, but his desire to
make friends prevailed. Besides, he was
curious to know more about his father’s school days.
“Oh, were your parents in Slytherin,
too?” he asked Rose, completely aware that Al Potter’s father had been in
Gryffindor. But when he asked, he
noticed Al blanch ever so slightly.
“Oh no,” Rose said, “both mine and Al’s parents were in
Gryffindor, but my dad seemed to recognize your family on the platform.”
So that’s whom his father had seen on the platform. Harry Potter.
It made sense in a way. Who
wouldn’t recognize Harry Potter? And yet,
his father had never mentioned knowing him at school. Scorpius made a
mental note to ask about this in a letter to his father. Well, to be on the safe side, he’d ask his maman instead.
“So your family was in Slytherin,
then?” Rose went on. “I’ve read about
the four Houses, of course, and while I expect that I’d be a shoo-in for Ravenclaw, my dad seems convinced I’ll be in Gryffindor
just like him. Do you expect you’ll be
Obviously, no one can really know
ahead of time, but it does seem that sometimes families tend to be Sorted into the same Houses.”
“I doubt I’ll be in Slytherin,”
Scorpius said quietly.
“Well, my uncle says all four Houses are perfectly good,”
Rose continued, “and not to make judgments about Slytherins,
because the rumors that all dark wizards are from Slytherin
only got out of control during Voldemort’s years
because Voldemort himself happened to be in Slytherin. Anyway,
when one considers the entire history
of the House—dating back to the Founders, that is—then one can see how
ridiculous it is to condemn an entire House for a few bad apples during—say—a
thirty-year period or so. That sort of
thinking just entirely glosses over all of the positive contributions by Slytherins to wizarding society, particularly advances in medical magic and potion-making.” She said this all very fast, and occasionally
she’d glance uneasily at Al, who looked as though he’d heard all of this
before, and it was clearly not his favorite topic.
Scorpius, however, perked up a bit at her last
statement. His father was a Potions
Master and had already taught him a number of simple potions using plants from
greenhouses. And of course, he had been
instructed in basic history, arithmancy, herbology and magical theory. His heart raced. Perhaps he’d have a chance at Slytherin after all.
He was about to chime in with his own knowledge of the
traditional House traits, when the compartment door slid open to reveal a
haughty-looking blond boy and a few followers trying to peer into the
compartment over his shoulder.
“I told you he was on the train,” the blond was saying. “If that’s not Harry Potter’s son, then I’m a
Rose and Al stood up immediately. Al had his wand drawn, and Rose looked
especially fierce. Scorpius
stood up as well, for fear that she might turn on him
if he didn’t. He wasn’t keen on taking
her on with that look in her eye.
“What? Come to
stare, have you?” Rose said. She was taller than the intruder boy and he
seemed to wince under her stare. Scorpius didn’t blame him.
“I’m surprised you’re not taking tickets at the door,”
the boy said. “My dad says the Potters
are notorious attention-seekers.”
“Well, your dad’s probably just jealous because he’s not
important enough to be paid attention to.”
Scorpius was surprised to hear his own
voice. Everyone in the compartment
turned towards him, and already he was beginning to regret saying anything.
The boy curled his lip.
“And who are you?”
Scorpius hesitated to
answer. His maman would be furious if he got
into trouble before even reaching the school, but Rose answered for him.
“His name is Scorpius Malfoy, not that it’s any—”
“Malfoy!” The boy snorted with laughter. “Boys, you’re probably not familiar with the Malfoys,” he said to his cronies. He spoke with a tone that was not unlike the
old Rita Skeeter articles about Scorpius’s
grandparents. “They joined Voldemort back in his time, but couldn’t handle the Death
Eater lifestyle and came crawling back to the Ministry begging for leniency and
forgiveness. Then they moved abroad when
they finally realized no one wanted them here.
They’d betrayed the Death Eaters, but the Ministry didn’t trust them
either, so they had no choice but to leave.”
Scorpius opened his mouth to
say something, but his voice didn’t seem to work. His deepest fear had just been realized, and
now he was sure that his new acquaintances would want nothing more to do with
“Hmmm,” Al began, his glance shifting from the intruder
From the look on Al’s face, he wasn’t about to say anything nice. Scorpius expected
the worst, but instead Al said, “I was just thinking it’s too bad you don’t realize that no one wants you here and that you have no choice but
to leave.” He took a step towards the
door, wand firmly in hand.
“Let’s go,” the boy said to his followers, “he’s not
nearly as interesting as his father anyway.”
The boy stormed off, the other kids following reluctantly
and trying to get one last look at the three kids in the compartment before
they lost the chance.
Scorpius and Al looked
sheepishly at one another, as if unsure what to say. Rose, who didn’t seem to ever have that
problem, was the first to speak.
“Thanks for standing up for us, Scorpius,”
she said as she sat back down. “We knew
Al would get more attention than his brother ever did, because—you know—he
looks more like his dad and all, but we weren’t quite expecting that.”
“No worries. And, erm…” his voice seemed to fail him again, “thanks to you,
too. My family... they’re not bad
wizards. They just wanted to be left
alone.” He felt ashamed. He should be fiercely defending his family,
explaining how his maman
is from France,
and that they owned a respected apothecary, and that they just wanted what was
best for him, but a small part of him knew that this boy was probably just
saying what everyone already thought about the Malfoys. Perhaps making friends was going to be more
of a challenge than he had imagined.
“My mum says that one shouldn’t have preconceived notions
about others just because of their family,” said Rose. “After all, that kind of thinking is what led
to the persecution of Muggle-borns under Voldemort in the first place. So we mustn’t let our prejudices determine
how we treat others, whether they are Muggle-born or
of the oldest wizarding families.” She was talking very fast again, and Al
smiled at Scorpius as if to assure him that, yes, she
was like this all the time.
They continued to talk throughout the journey, and Scorpius found that he quite enjoyed talking to Rose, who
seemed to know about as much or more of the basics as he did. Plus, she seemed fascinated by the fact that
had been a Herbology teacher and by the fact that his
parents were known for their quality potions and ingredients. Al, though much quieter than his cousin, was
also very knowledgeable about loads of counter curses even if most were far too
advanced for him. He was also quite the
authority on Quidditch, and Scorpius
nearly fainted when he learned that Al’s mum had been a professional Quidditch player. Rose too followed Quidditch,
but not nearly as intensely as the two boys.
As the day wore on, the subjects kept changing, and
between Scorpius’s excitement at having someone his
age to actually talk to and Rose’s inability to speak in less than a paragraph
at a time, the chatter was practically endless.
Throughout the day a few kids here and there would linger outside the
compartment door and try to sneak a look at Al, and every now and again they’d
get an actual visitor, including Al’s older brother and Blair Zabini, a tiny girl with honey-colored skin,
impossibly-spiraled hair, and hazel eyes that sometimes looked green but mostly
And finally, in the middle of an animated discussion
about whether the Holyhead Harpies would—or should—ever
hire wizards, they arrived.
A mousy-looking girl with ringlet curls bounced off to a
cheering Hufflepuff table. It seemed that with every shout from the
Sorting Hat, Scorpius could feel his heart beating faster
and faster. He was certain that he was
trembling and that everyone around him could see it. His mind was racing. What House would he be in? What House did he want to be in? Al had told
him quietly as they walked to the boats that his dad told him the Sorting Hat
would consider what House he wanted to be in, and Scorpius
was suddenly faced with more possible outcomes than he was ready for. He always thought that he would be put into
the House that his personality matched; he hadn’t any idea that he could have a
say in it.
Of course his first thought was of Slytherin. He couldn’t wait to write home and tell his
Father that he was in his House. But
then the taunting figure of the nameless blond boy invaded his thoughts, and he
wondered if being in Slytherin would just encourage
others like him. And then there were
Rose and Al. They were probably both
heading for Gryffindor, although Al seemed less sure of it. He definitely would like to be in the same
House as them. Not only did he enjoy
their company, but he also thought that Rose was definitely someone he’d want sticking
up for him.
“RAVENCLAW!” the Hat shouted, and “Lynch, Artemesia,” joined her House.
Scorpius felt his heart
drop. He hadn’t really given much thought
to the fact that he’d be the first of his acquaintances to be Sorted. He swallowed
hard and hoped his heart would stop thumping so loudly. Someone was bound to hear it.
Funny, the closer he stepped towards the stool and the
Hat, the less oxygen there seemed to be.
Still, he willed himself onward and eventually managed to sit on the
stool. He did all of this without being
the least bit aware of his surroundings until he heard a PLOP, and the Sorting Hat had blocked his view.
“Interesting,” said a small voice in Scorpius’s
yes, and eager to prove yourself… also brave and fiercely loyal. You could do well in any of the four, but the
question is, which House will be best for you?”
And Scorpius thought of his
father. He’d sat in this
very same spot years ago, with the very same Hat on his head. His father hadn’t been an evil wizard, and Scorpius would show them that Malfoys
were just as good as anyone else. But
before he’d had a chance to tell the Hat which House he’d prefer, he heard it
Taking a deep breath, Scorpius
placed the Sorting Hat on the stool and joined the rest of the Slytherins. Rose and
Al smiled at him from their place in the line of remaining first years. Once he took his seat and shook hands with
those closest to him, he crossed all of his fingers in hope that Al, at least,
joined him at the table.
A few more students trotted off happily to their tables,
and it was Al’s turn. The Great Hall got
so quiet one could hear a cat stretching until a redheaded boy from the
Gryffindor table shouted, “All right Al!” earning him a dirty look from a
prefect and sending his Housemates into giggles. Still, all eyes were on Al as he walked to
the stool. His resemblance to his famous
father was just that remarkable.
The Sorting Hat was placed on Al’s head, and Scorpius crossed his fingers so tightly he was certain
they’d snap. The hat seemed to be taking
longer than usual. When it finally
shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Scorpius sighed and uncrossed
his sore fingers. If Al was in
Gryffindor, Rose was certainly headed there as well.
But not right away.
There were several in line before Weasley, but Scorpius paid little
attention until, “Smith, Zephaniah,” was called, and the haughty blond boy made
his way to the stool. He panicked. What if Zephaniah Smith was in his
House? How would he ever share a
dormitory with a boy who’d said such horrible things about his parents?
“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Hat yelled out, and Scorpius
let out the breath he’d been holding in.
At least the day wasn’t a total loss.
As suspected, Rose also became a Gryffindor, and she
waved to Scorpius as she sat down. When the Sorting Hat was placed on Blair Zabini’s head, her ridiculous spirals kept it up instead of
falling over her eyes as it had for nearly everyone else. Scorpius had to
stifle a snigger, which was just as well.
Blair joined him at the Slytherin table and
gave the other kids such a look that they scooted over enough to let her sit
down right next to Scorpius.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur. They ate, they were escorted to their Houses
and dormitories, and Scorpius dutifully sent a letter
to his parents with Havelock. Only upon climbing into bed did he realize
his exhaustion. His mind wandered for a
bit. As they’d left the Welcoming Feast,
Al and Rose asked him to meet them outside the Great Hall as soon as they all
got their time tables, and he’d agreed.
Blair talked his ear off on the way to their House, and asked him if
he’d help in Potions, as it was certain to be her worst subject. He’d agreed to that as well. And as he looked forward to spending time
with his new friends the next day, even thoughts of Zephaniah Smith couldn’t
bring him down. He was determined to
prove that he and his family weren’t the cowards that Smith had accused them of
being, and if he could prove that to Albus Potter and
Rose Weasley, then he knew he could prove that to
In a few hours, it would be the second of September, but Scorpius Malfoy wasn’t thinking
about that, because he was sound asleep.
Author’s Notes: It’s
been a long time since I’ve written any fic, but I
couldn’t let the newest Malfoy getting away without
having me write about him. I would like
to thank J.K. Rowling for mentioning little Scorpius
in the Epilogue, and for his ridiculous name.
*loves* I would also like to thank Ashwinder
and Starbuckx, for their early comments and Ara Kane for still being an awesome SQ Beta Reader after
all these years.