Chapter One: The Beginning of the Journey

POV: Albus

Although I've crossed the same brick barrier since before I could walk, fear still raced up my spine when I ran through with my trolley. My eyes were still squeezed tight, but when the noise transformed from the terrified banging of my heart to the buzzing of a crowd and the engine of a train, relief washed over me.

Until James followed right after me.

"Oh, come on now, Albie. It's not sssssooo bad," my older brother laughed, flicking his tongue out like the snakes he's worked so hard to bring around me all summer. 

"Don't call me Albie," I warned, but that just encouraged him to laugh louder, drawing in more attention from the permanent fan club that seems to follow us around everywhere we go. I was about to step aside from my trolley and give in to the voice in my head that told me I'd feel better after shoving my fist against James' jaw, but that was quickly contained when our mother appeared before us.

Mum used to be the captain and star Chaser for the HolyHead Harpies back in the day; as fans of Quidditch, it was not hard for us to find old sport articles on her. Most writers of those articles used words like 'insane', 'a force to be reckoned with', 'short-tempered', 'hurricane', 'deadlier than a bludger, especially if she's swinging the Beater's Bat' to describe her—and they were all correct. Except, of course, that was just Mum as a professional Quidditch player. It got worse when she was your mother.

So when Ginny Potter strolled up to us, hands on her hips, brown eyes narrowed, to say, "How many times do I have to tell you two to behave? For Merlin's sake, if you insist on acting like babies, I will put you two in nappies and parade you down this platform for everyone to see"...well, even James stayed quiet.

For a second.

"I wasn't even saying anything," James grunted, looking back up from his shoes with a flash of stupid courage. "It's not my fault little Albie can't take a joke. But, fine. Whatever. I'll be nice to him. It's not like he's going to have friends of his own, anyway."

Behind Mum was Dad and my nine year-old sister Lily. Smartly enough, they both took a step back from the swinging zone when Mum's eyes darkened. 

"Harry," Mum called Dad, "is anyone watching?"

Dad did look around. Despite the fact that he is Harry freaking Potter and a crowd formed everywhere he went, he still said, "Nope. We're all alone, Ginny."

"Good. I don't want any witnesses when I murder my own child."

James found it hard not to contradict Mum's every word, but even he was not (surprisingly) that thick. As much as he liked to poke the dragon, he knew his limits. It's what made him take a step back and yield. 

"How about I go find myself a compartment?" he said with a big, bright, phony smile. 

Dad laughed at my brother's easy defeat. "Come here." He reached for James, reeling him in from the side of his trolley, even as my brother shook his head in protest. "Be nice to your brother before your mother actually decides to act on her threats."

"I can't make any promises," James huffed. 

I frowned at him. "It won't kill you, you know."

"Maybe it will, Albie."

"Don't call me Albie!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Mum groaned, reaching for the stretchy band on her wrist before going to pull her long, red hair up. "I'll just murder both. I have Teddy. I don't need two spare sons."

Dad gave me a pointed look before giving it to James. "We'll see you for the holidays, all right, James. In the meantime please stay out of trouble."

James wiggled free from Dad. "You know I have a goal for how many times I can set off a prank without being blamed for it, Dad. Honestly, if you can't support me in achieving my dreams, then what sort of parent are you?"

At the gigantic smirk on my brother's face, Mum rolled her eyes before smacking him beside the head. Then she, too, reeled him in to a reluctant hug. "I don't want to hear about any mishaps, you understand me? Minerva is too old for this, James."

"The Headmistress and I know our roles, Mum. Sorry."

Mum squeezed him tighter (to stop his flow of oxygen or out of nostalgia, I'll never really know). 

 While James had a problem allowing our family to see him off with a dose of affection, that was not the case when it came to Lily. Especially if Lily had tears in her green eyes when she looked up at him, dreading another goodbye that lasted far too long for her liking. So when she launched her tiny body at him, clinging on to his waist, James scooped her up in a massive, overbearing hug. 

"I'll write to you every weekend, Lils."

"You promise, Jamie?"

"Promise."

He set her back down on her feet, ruffling her hair and messing up the work Mum had put into it earlier. He then locked his brown eyes on me and I saw the wickedness coming before he even opened his mouth. 

"Little tip, brother; Slytherins tend to stay on the far end of the train. Best go scout it and pick your seat for the next seven years."

James then bolted from us when Mum tried to pinch him. 

Dad sighed, shaking his head when he took in the panic on my face. "Ignore him, Al."

"I've tried to. All my life. It's never helped," I grunted out.

He put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I knew the comforting speech was about to come, the same one he has been giving me since James started mocking me about my future sorting. Luckily, the crowd around us parted to let in a small family they gawked at, too. 

"Ron," Mum scoffed when her brother called out for her. 

"I could hear you yelling from the other side of the barrier," Uncle Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll give us away if all the Muggles start hearing voices coming from the walls. Then I'll have to arrest you for meddling."

Mum had a lot to say about James and mine's sibling rivalry, but somehow she seemed to miss the one she has with Uncle Ron. At his comment, she looked ready to strike, but Dad still had quick reflexes. He stepped right between the two.

"James is scaring Al again."

"He wasn't scaring me," I mumbled.

"The sorting thing, right?" Uncle Ron tapped a finger on his mouth. He stayed silent for a moment before he said, "Well, kid's got a point, Harry. I mean, a Slytherin in our family?"

Uncle Ron should have realized he was standing between two women who did not take his comments with amusement. As such, he received two smacks on his head from Mum and Aunt Hermione. 

"Oi!" Uncle Ron jumped away from them. "All right, all right. It was a joke. Blimey!"

Rose—my favorite cousin and certified best friend—rolled her eyes at her father before giving me a toothy grin. "Forget about the sorting, Al. That's nothing compared to actually going to Hogwarts! Think about all the subjects we are going to learn!"

She is not kidding. Rose is this excited about school. The big nerd had all her books packed and ready to go since the night she received her letter. She was so eager to attend, she and Aunt Hermione had discussed pleading for an early admission. It could have worked, too, because Rose was the smartest person anyone has encountered since her own mother, but Uncle Ron put his foot down. Shockingly, Aunt Hermione had lost that argument when he said Rose needed to have one year of being a proper child before she was sucked into the vortex that was the Hogwarts' library. 

"Not really," I mumbled with a shrug.

Rose smacked my arm. "Slytherin or not, it doesn't matter. You know that, Albus."

"Unless you want to be associated with evil little serpents who want to take over the world and you want to disappoint your whole family by breaking tradition—" Uncle Ron stopped when we all frowned at him. "I mean, of course there's nothing to worry about!"

"I will bash your head against that barrier, Ron, and really give the Muggles a show," Mum warned.

"I'll help with the Oblivation after," Aunt Hermione added.

Uncle Ron gaped at his wife. 

"Come on, mate," Dad grabbed on to Uncle Ron's elbow, pulling him a step back. "Let's load their trunks on the train before they really do hurt you."

Uncle Ron grumbled, but he still helped Dad push mine, James, and Rose's trolleys toward the loading area. 

I turned to Mum with somewhat of a pout. It was a combination of fear and nervousness. 

"Oh, sweetheart," she said before pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You're going to be just fine. You know why? Because regardless of what House you get sorted into, you'll find great friends. Now, make us proud and be who you are."

For the first time since the end of August came around, I smiled.

Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.