1 September 2017

"Boys, you may find your dormitory up that staircase over there," said Anjali D'Costa, the fifth year Gryffindor prefect who had escorted Albus and the other new first years to Gryffindor Tower. She was pointing to a set of spiral stairs near the far left of the common room. "And girls, if you will, please follow me this way to your dormitory…"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Al," Rose chirped, beaming at him as she joined the group of six first year girls trailing after Anjali in the direction of the right staircase.

Albus returned the smile, albeit rather halfheartedly, and waved.

Then, slowly, he turned around to gaze out at the Gryffindor common room, his heart giving a mad, little flutter. For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of sitting in those very armchairs by the fire, of playing Exploding Snap and chess with his cousins on that very stretch of maroon carpet…

He blinked.

After weeks of worrying, months of hoping, wishing, and praying…years of listening to James gloat and flaunt…why was disappointment the only thing he was feeling?

"Are you coming up, Albus?"

Albus looked around. His family friend, Malcolm Wood, was standing near the foot of the stairs to the boys' dormitories, eyebrows raised. Behind him stood the only two other boys in their year who had been sorted into Gryffindor, Gregor Blythe and Oliver Wang.

"Er—" Albus glanced back at the common room. It was empty except for three people. His thirteen-year-old brother James and their cousin Freddie were sitting on the hearth, laughing with their friend—Malcolm's older brother—Magnus. Albus turned back to face his new housemates. "Actually, I…I think I'm going to have a quick word with my brother."

Malcolm frowned. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," Albus lied, forcing a grin. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Malcolm nodded, grinning back. "See you, Al."

And with that, he led Greg and Oliver up the staircase.

Albus watched them go, biting his lip. Then, he faced the fireplace, taking a deep breath. And before he could stop himself, he marched up to the hearth and stood over his elder brother, arms crossed.

"Why did you think I'd be in Slytherin?"

James trailed off mid-sentence, turning to stare up at Albus. There were several beats of silence. Then, Freddie, looking between the two brothers, cleared his throat uncomfortably and jumped to his feet.

"Er—Mags, did I show you the new Wheezes products my dad packed for us?"

"No, you didn't, actually," Magnus said immediately, rising as well.

"Let's go upstairs…"

Quickly, the pair hurried up the stairs to their dormitory, leaving a bemused-looking James sitting alone by the fireplace.

"James?" Albus pressed, narrowing his eyes. "Why did you think I'd be in Slytherin?"

"Al…" James shook his head slowly, looking utterly incredulous. "Mate, you know I was joking—"

"No, you weren't," Albus said hotly. "You've been harping on about it for months—"

"I was just messing around—!"

"Well, you were right!" Albus shouted, his voice breaking slightly. James went silent. Clenching his jaw against the lump in his throat, Albus dropped to his knees on the hearth next to his older brother. Then, quietly, he continued, "I think I should've been in Slytherin, James. The hat said I'd do well there—I had to ask it not to put me there."

There was a long silence as James considered this, frowning. "What?"

"I should've been in Slytherin," Albus repeated—so quietly, now, that he saw James lean closer to hear him. "You were right."

Another long silence unfolded. Albus stared down at his knees, afraid to look up and meet his brother's eyes.

It was nearly a full minute before James finally spoke, his voice unnervingly calm.

"You're an ungrateful git, Albus Severus Potter."

Albus jerked up, glaring fiercely. "Hey—!"

"No, seriously—shut up, Al," James interrupted sharply, and Albus froze. "Listen—do you want to be in Slytherin? Would you like me to run up to the Headmistress's office and tell Professor McGonagall you've had a change of loyalty?"

"No!" Albus gaped at his brother, taken aback. "Of course I don't—!"

"Well, then, stop bloody complaining and start thanking your bloody stars that the Sorting Hat took your choice into account—because guess what? It doesn't do that for just anyone!"

"I—" Albus blinked rapidly, stunned. "What d'you—?"

"Louis wanted to be in Gryffindor with me and Freddie, but he got put in Ravenclaw," James explained, counting the name off on his fingers. "Magnus wanted to be a Ravenclaw, but he got put in Gryffindor. And best of all, Neville wanted to be in Hufflepuff! Neville, Al! Professor Longbottom, your godfather, the head of Gryffindor house, wanted to be a Hufflepuff when he was eleven!"

Albus stared at James, utterly dumbfounded. "How—how on Earth do you know this?" he asked hoarsely.

James shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said impatiently. "But don't you get it? The Sorting Hat isn't some stupid piece of clothing! It has its reasons for choosing whether or not to take people's preferences into consideration. I doubt Lou would be half as happy in Gryffindor as he is in Ravenclaw—and Neville as a Hufflepuff?" James scoffed. "The man wears red and gold pajamas, Al."

And in spite of himself, in spite of everything, Albus burst into laughter. James grinned.

"For the record, you would've been great in Slytherin," he told Albus, shrugging. "But I'm glad you're here instead."

Albus smirked. "I knew you couldn't live without me."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," James snorted, climbing to his feet; Albus followed suit. "Also, don't go near the seventh floor bathrooms tonight," he added mysteriously as he led his younger brother towards the dormitory staircase.

Albus paled. "What—why?" he demanded. "What are you and Freddie planning this time?"

"That's for us to know, and for you to find out in the Howlers Mum and Aunt Angelina send to the Great Hall tomorrow," James said lightly; Albus rolled his eyes. "Oh—and while we're on the topic of things you don't know, I'd recommend not using your toothbrush tonight."

Albus spluttered. "My toothbrush? Why—?"

"I may or may not have doused it in Nosebleed Nougat before you packed it this morning."

"James!"

"You wanted to be a Gryffindor, didn't you? You should've realized that meant five more years of me."

"You're the worst."

"Love you, too, little bro."

Twenty minutes later, after thoroughly and meticulously cleansing every bristle on his toothbrush, Albus discovered that it was his toothpaste—not his toothbrush—that James had spiked with Nosebleed Nougat that morning.

Author's Note:

Here's to finally finishing entries to challenges I signed up for TWO YEARS ago lol. I'm the worst.

(If you couldn't tell from this fic, I don't take most of Cursed Child to be canon. There are a couple details I enjoyed from the play that you'll see recurring in my Next Gen stories from time to time, but on the whole, I'm not a CC fan.)

Hope y'all enjoyed this one! The challenge prompt was to write a fic whose title was one word long. And if you're curious about what James and Freddie have planned for the seventh floor bathrooms, take a look at my fic "Golden" ;D

Ari