"Sorry dude," yelled the boy without looking at who he ran into.
"That kid is a Gryffindor," said Pansy with distaste.
As the Hogwarts Express let out another loud whistle, steam billowing around the platform, Scorpius lingered near his parents. He adjusted his trunk and glanced toward the bustling families. Most families anxiously said goodbye to their children, but a few stood out.
Amid the swirl of activity, Scorpius's gaze was drawn to the large gathering of redheads near the far end of the platform. There was no mistaking them—the Weasleys, a family whose name carried as much weight in the wizarding world as the Malfoys, though for entirely different reasons.
At the center of the group stood Ron Weasley, his flaming red hair a little more muted with age but still unmistakable. His frame was tall and broad, though his posture was slightly more relaxed than Scorpius might have expected. He was laughing loudly, the sound carrying across the platform, his freckled face creased with amusement.
Next to Ron was Hermione Granger, or as she was now called, Hermione Weasley. It shocked Scorpius when he learnt Hermione was now the Minister of Magic. Her bushy hair was streaked with a few strands of gray, though it remained as untamed as ever. She wore robes that seemed more formal than most.
Scorpius also saw a tall Weasley man with a missing ear. Besides him was a black woman with long hair curling near the tips. He must have been George.
Two people were a bit further from the group and closer to the Malfoys. The older one was kneeling. He had brown hair, green eyes, and the iconic lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
"Is that~" began Scorpius.
"That's Harry Potter, the head auror," said Draco.
Scorpius looked at his father. Unlike his usual self, his tone was bitter and awkward, like when facing Luna. Turning back around, he listened to what Harry was saying.
"Albus Severus Potter," said Harry quietly, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin, and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."
'Bravest!', thought Scorpius, 'Snape would roll over in his grave if he heard you compliment him.'
"Bravest? Harry, I literally sacrificed myself to a giant chess game to you when I was just eleven years old," complained Ron from a bit farther away.
"But did you die, though?" said Harry with a straight face.
Scorpius felt like he could have a bit of fun of his own. He turned around and faced his father. His father looked puzzled when he gave a small wink.
"But just say--" began Harry's son Albus when he was interrupted by Scorpius.
"Dad, what if I'm sorted into Gryffindor?"
It felt like half the station stopped what they were doing at his words and started paying attention to him. Ron stood flabbergasted at the idea of a Malfoy being sorted into anything but Slytherin. Astoria let out a small gasp and clutched her purse tightly. The station master dropped his pocket watch. Even the unflappable Terrance Parkinson turned his neck sharply and stared at Scorpius. If Scorpius focused on Terrence, he would have noticed an expression of worry in his eyes.
Draco looked horrified by his son's words. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, do not get sorted into Gryffindor. Your grandfather will hear of this and have my head."
"Wow," said Scorpius," I never thought you would shout at me like that."
"Idiot, fool," croaked Brynden in his cage.
"What do you know about sorting Brynden? You're just a smart raven." Scorpius rolled his eyes.
"Two minutes," called out the station master once he came back to his senses.
"Bye Dad, I'll write to you after my Sorting," said Scorpius. He gave a small hug to his parents and pushed the trolley towards Hogwarts Express. The crowd parted, giving him an easy route.
"Wow," said Albus, staring at Scorpius's back and the crowd's reaction to him.
Ron snorted," I'm sure the slimy snake will just be put in Slytherin. Draco probably told him to say that."
"Could be," said Harry," or maybe he is trying to be like Sirius."
…
Inside the train, Scorpius dragged his trunk behind him, weaving through the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express. The chatter of excited students filled the air, but he didn't stop to join any conversations. He preferred solitude for now. Finally, he spotted an empty compartment near the back of the train. Sliding the door open, he stepped inside, relieved to have found some peace.
The relief was short-lived, however, as he realized he needed to stow his trunk. Scorpius tugged it toward the overhead bin, eyeing the narrow space skeptically. He gripped the handle tightly and attempted to lift it, but the trunk was heavier than expected. Straining, he managed to lift it halfway before the weight threatened to pull it—and him—back down.
"Come on," he muttered, gritting his teeth as he tried again. This time, the trunk bumped awkwardly against the edge, making a dull thud. He stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.
"Fudging child's body," said Scorpius," I should start working out and building my stamina."
As Scorpius stood there, debating his next move, the compartment door slid open. A tall, older student with a Slytherin crest on his robes stepped inside. He had dark hair and a slightly chubby face. The boy paused when he saw Scorpius, his eyes flickering to the Malfoy crest on Scorpius's trunk.
"Need help?" the boy asked, his tone polite but cautious.
"Yes, please," Scorpius admitted, stepping aside to let the older student through. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at having to ask a teenager for assistance, but it was better than struggling and failing.
The older student grabbed the trunk with ease, lifting it as though it weighed nothing. He slid it into the bin with practiced efficiency and stepped back, brushing off his hands. "There. All set."
He studied the older boy's face, hoping to catch a trace of friendliness, but the boy's expression remained neutral, almost guarded. His hesitation lingered for a moment before he spoke again.
"Name's Gareth Bulstrode," he said curtly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his robes. "Fourth year.." His voice carried a sense of respect, like he was stating a fact he didn't expect Scorpius to care about.
"Scorpius Malfoy," Scorpius replied, inclining his head slightly.
Gareth's sharp eyes flicked over Scorpius again, lingering briefly on the crest stitched onto his trunk. His lips pressed into a thin line, and when he spoke again, there was a measured quality to his tone. "Yeah, I figured."
Scorpius tensed, recognizing the weight behind those words. It wasn't hostility exactly, but there was an unmistakable edge of wariness like Gareth was sizing him up.
"Thanks for helping with the trunk," Scorpius said, hoping to steer the conversation into neutral territory.
"You can call me any time you like, my lor- I mean Scorpius," said Gareth, covering his mistake.
"My lord? Did my father send you?" asked Scorpius.
Gareth's eyes darted around the compartment as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Not exactly," he muttered, his voice lowering. "But... some of us were told to keep an eye on you. You know, make sure you're... protected."
"Protected?" Scorpius frowned, his suspicion mounting. "By whom?"
Gareth hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if debating how much to say. Finally, he leaned in slightly, speaking in a near whisper. "By families loyal to... well, your other father."
Scorpius froze, his mind racing. "My other father?" he repeated, his voice quiet but edged with incredulity. "What are you talking about?"
Gareth blinked, his expression shifting to one of confusion. "You mean you don't know?" His brows furrowed as he straightened up. "I just assumed... Look, I don't know the full story, but some of the old families—those who stood with the Dark Lord—believe you're special. That you've come to finish the work."
Scorpius's stomach twisted. "Really?" he asked, his tone flat.
"Yeah," Gareth said, his voice cautious. "You're the son of Draco Malfoy, and some of them think there's more to your bloodline than just the Malfoy name." He paused, studying Scorpius's face for any sign of confirmation. "I figured you'd already know this. Maybe even why they think that."
Scorpius remained silent, his face carefully blank as he processed Gareth's words. Inside, though, a storm of questions and emotions raged. Was this why people looked at him the way they did? Why did his father always seem to be shielding him from certain conversations?
Gareth mistook Scorpius's silence for dismissal or perhaps disapproval. He straightened his robes, his demeanor becoming more formal. "I didn't mean to overstep, Master Scorpius," he said quickly, his tone apologetic. "If I've said too much... well, I'll leave you to it."
Scorpius said nothing, his thoughts too tangled to form a response. Gareth, looking increasingly uncomfortable, gave a stiff bow. "If you need anything... You know where to find me," he said before backing out of the compartment and sliding the door shut behind him.
'Okay, what the hell is going on here?' thought Scorpius. 'Why does everyone think I'm Voldemort's son or something?'
*Caw Caw* The sounds made by Brynden distracted him from his current predicament. Scorpius opened the cage and let Brynden loose. The black raven flew around the compartment a few times and settled on his shoulder.
"So~ small," croaked the bird.
"What else do you expect from a train compartment?" asked Scorpius." The bigger mystery is how come no one blinks an eye at an old locomotive traveling among electric trains and monorails."
Brynden croaked a couple more times and dropped down to the seat beside him. His sharp talons dug into the train's blue seats. Scorpius closed his eyes and lost himself to the rhythm of the train wheels on the rails.