Albus Potter and the Tri-Wizard Tournament (Next-Gen HP Fan-Fic)

Prolouge: Not Slytherin

September 1st, 2017. One of the most notable days of Albus Severus Potter's life. He had just taken his seat in one of the empty train cars after waving to his mother, father, and younger sister on the platform. His stomach ached with anxiety, his mind spun with "what if"s.

Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin. He couldn't even imagine what kind of horrors his brother would put him through if he were to be sorted into the green house instead of the red. After the Hogwarts Express pulled from the station, James, a 3rd year Gryffindor, did not left his younger brother to find his friends in one of the other cars.

Rose Weasley beside him awkwardly on the back facing bench seat in front of him. Sure, they knew each other from Christmas and Birthdays -- they were cousins after all -- but with the First Feat just a few hours away, when their fates were sealed by the sorting hat, neither wished to talk. He chanted in his head, Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. As if repeating it over and over again would help convince him he could choose, that he did hold some power over a talking hat, that he could choose where he went.

"I'm awfully sorry," A scrawny girl, with brown curls twisted into a bun on her head, said to break him from his thoughts, "There's no other place. Would you mind if I-"

"Not at all," Rose squeaked back, her throat tight from nerves.

"Thank you!" The girl sighed out in relief, sitting on the bench beside Albus, "Some of the nasty 5th years kicked me out of another cabin. I've been looking for an empty seat -- but you can't imagine how many other first years there are!"

"You're a first year too," Albus released a breath he didn't know he was holding. The girl beside him had freckles on her nose, a narrow jaw, and golden honey eyes. On her navy blue sweater was a small peacock feather brochet. She was, overall, kempt.

"Yes, my great aunt sent me my acceptance letter and here I am!" She beamed at him, "The names Isabella."

"Rose Weasley," said his cousin, "And this is Albus Potter."

"Very nice to meet you both!" The girl smiled, but silently tried to piece together where she knew those names from. Her eyebrows pinched together before her eyes grew large and her lips formed a small 'o'. But she didn't pry. Instead, she asked a more difficult question: "Have you two thought about the Sorting Ceremony?"

Albus turned his attention to the window. He could see himself on the other side of the glass like he would a ghost, partially transparent but just as calm. He was a perplexed young boy with jet black hair like his father, rounded pale cheeks like his father, and vibrant green eyes like his father's. He was told time and time again he, Albus Severus Potter, was a splitting image of his dad by many of his father's friends.

His mind continued to ring with his mental whispering: Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. As he watched the green hills and grey lakes speed by the magical Hogwarts Express, he lost himself in his thoughts. What were to become of the first Potter to be sorted into Slytherin?

***

The castle was just as magnificent in person as it was in the Daily Prophet. Tall spires made the towers, the walls were thick and newly refurbished, each window looked like a golden stud that sparkled in the sun. Except, the light came from within the castle. Night had cloaked the sky with a dark blue blanket, and the stars were tiny holes in the stitching. The Black Lake looked even darker at the edge of the forest, and the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reflected of the shifting waters.

Albus was in awe. The castle was everything he has ever dreamed of. As he followed the rest of the first years to a set of long boats not far from the platform, he couldn't help but admire the towering castle. It made him feel small, insignificant, and powerless. Hundreds of famous witches and wizards studies here, and he would soon be among them.