So Much Like His Father

I can hear them whispering around me as we wait to be let in to the Great Hall. It's almost as if they think I'm deaf, that I can't hear them. Some of them snicker, some of them question my presence here, but the majority say the same thing.

"He's so much like his father…"

It was the same on the train. No one spoke to me, no one came near me, they'd just take one look at me and compare me to my father. I should be used to it, I've gotten it all my life. But I'm sick of it! I'm fed up with people judging me because of what my father did nineteen years ago. I'm tired of people making assumptions about me when they don't know me.

I am NOT my father!

Sure, I look like him. I have his hair, his eyes, even some of his mannerisms. But I'm nothing like him…not really.

The doors open and we file forward, each waiting to take our turn under the Sorting Hat. It was almost destroyed some two decades again, set alight during the final battle by Voldemort himself, but it's an object full of the oldest of magics, it'd take a lot more than a little inferno to destroy it.

As I wait for my name to be called I try to close my ears to the same whisperings I can hear around me. It's really getting old!

Finally Professor Longbottom calls my name and I step up onto the dais. He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me, his expression blank otherwise as if he's trying not to see the resemblance, as I climb up on the rickety looking stool.

"Anything but Slytherin." I whisper, so quietly that the Herbology professor who drops the Hat on my head doesn't even hear it. "Anything but Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin." Over and over, I repeat it like a mantra, my eyes squeezed shut.

"Hmmm…" I hear a voice in my head…the Hat's voice. "I didn't expect to hear THAT from YOU."

My eyes widen as it settles itself further on my head. I can almost feel it probing around inside my mind.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" It questions quietly. "So where should I put you? You're not without brains…Ravenclaw maybe?" Its tendrils dig further. "Ah!" It intones. "A need to prove yourself…to step out of your father's shadow and be your own man." I can almost hear it smile. "In that case it better be…GRYFFINDOR!"

It speaks the final word with such volume it echoes off the inside of my head as loudly as it reverberates off the high vaulted ceiling. My ears are still ringing when Professor Longbottom pulls the Hat from my head and gestures towards the Gryffindor house table with a wry smile.

As I take a seat I notice the first years that had been sorted before me slide away, unsure of what to make of me. It would seem my father's reputation still proceeds me. I don't pay much attention to the rest of the Sorting as I stare at nothing in particular, though I do notice the looks I'm getting from the Slytherins on the far side of the hall. I just wish the Sorting would end so the feast can begin and everyone will have something else to focus on besides me.

I'm disturbed from my thoughts as a body falls down heavily beside me. I look at the boy warily as he studies me with an ever increasing smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here." He says. "I'm Albus…" He introduces himself, offering me his hand. "Albus Potter…our fathers knew each other."

"Call me Sam." I say, probably a little quickly as I take his hand on pure reflex.

He frowns. "How do you get Sam from…?"

"Scorpius Alessandro Malfoy." I explain, emphasising the first letter of each word of my name. "It's what my mum calls me…Dad too when my grandfather's not around."

"Hi Albus." A girl greets as she plops down on my other side.

"Hi Rosie." He returns. "Meet Sam…"

"Sam, huh?" She smirks, looking me up and down in a way that makes me feel strangely uncomfortable. Then she laughs out loud. "A Malfoy in Gryffindor? Dad's never going to believe this!"


I watch the three Gryffindor first years as they get to know each other over the feast. I can't help but smile as the Malfoy boy laughs, truly laughs, at something the Potter boy says to him, in a display of camaraderie that their fathers would never have shared, while the Weasley girl rolls her eyes.

"If that kid had red hair…" Longbottom sighs to my left. "I'd swear we were seeing history repeating itself…"

"Let us hope not."


Harry Potter and all related characters are (C) J K Rowling