“You will never be your father, Albus,” said a dark, raspy voice.

“If you set your mind to it, you can accomplish anything,” the boy said in rejoinder.

“But you’ll never achieve what Harry Potter has. You’re just his son, just a wannabe.”

“No, you’re wrong!”

“And James is better than you. At least he excels at Quidditch. But all you can do is sit back and watch as Rose Weasley answers every question your teachers bring up.”

“I’m still very intelligent.”

“But she is more so. She is the pride and joy of her parents, and what are you? Just a copycat, named after two useless people, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.”

“No, they were great men, father says so!”

“But how was I able to kill them if they were so great? How could I have taken the Elder Wand from Dumbledore’s tomb and then killed Snape with it, to gain all the power it held?”

“MY FATHER KILLED YOU!”

“You think so, do you? No, I assure you, Albus, that I committed suicide. I decided the Muggle world was not worth living in, there being six billion of them and only a smattering of our kind. And now I inhabit your mind!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

There was the sound of a lamp breaking somewhere, and someone breathing, shaking him. “Albus, wake up! Wake up!”

The redheaded boy opened his sleep-lidded eyes, struggling to see. Someone had cast the Lumos spell and was standing in front of him, and he made out the shape of his brother.

“James?”

“You were having a nightmare. Dad will be down in a minute.”

At that moment, Harry poked his head in the room his sons shared. “Who had a nightmare?”

“I did,” Albus said, although he didn’t believe it was merely a dream.

“What was it about?” he asked, for Albus was his favorite son; it is almost certain that had James had a nightmare, Harry would’ve just left, for the worst dream James ever had was that he failed to catch the Snitch at a Hufflepuff game. It was always Hufflepuff that made James the most agitated, because he looked down on people unfortunate enough to be put in that House as his inferiors.

“Voldemort was speaking to me, saying I was worthless, and that you hadn’t killed him—he had done it himself.”

“Albus, you’re not worthless, and in a sense Voldemort did kill himself. He didn’t show any remorse for his actions, did he? Of course, you weren’t there and only your imagination could provide the details, but he chose to remain heartless and superior to the end. That is what done him in. But, if it still worries you, come down and have a glass of hot cocoa.”

Albus did as his father suggested. He needed something warm flowing through his veins, anyhow.

“Cheer up, son. This year the Triwizarding Tournament is going to be held at your school, and even though you won’t get to participate, you’ll get to see a lot of action. Of course, only one person has the opportunity from each of the three schools—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, and in another four years, you’ll have your chance, since you’ll be of age then.”

“Why do they only allow seventeen-year-olds in?” the boy asked, giving off the veneer of having recovered from his dream.

“It is very dangerous, as you’ll soon see. I won’t give you any details now, for I hate to spoil things. This will be the first time any of you kids get to see it. And it’ll be Lily’s first year at Hogwarts. She may look up to you, Albus, who knows? It is always awkward at her age; that’s when people tend to cling to their older siblings.”

This did brighten up Albus’ spirits a little, for he liked Lily reasonably well. She was a kind sister and an austere friend; no one would ever expect her to betray him. After a few more minutes, he went off to bed, and Harry gazed at the fire, recalling a summer when he had blown up his aunt and run off into the darkness, seeing a large black dog just before he was picked up by the Knight Bus…

A fortnight later, Harry, Ginny, and their three kids stood on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Lily ran to greet her cousin, Hugo Weasley, who was also a first-year. It was expected that they would be closer than peanut butter and jelly at Hogwarts. They boarded the train together, hand-in-hand.

Rose met with Albus. She was in Raveclaw; her intelligence was too sublime for her to have been thrusted into Gryffindor, even though her mother had been of that House. James tried to engage her in a conversation regarding Quidditch, but her mind was too fine for such things. Albus went with her on the train, to get in a compartment with Arnold Chumpunk, whose parents were Muggles.

James was about to board the train, when Ginny noticed somebody that looked kind of familiar walking about with her son. The lady was tall and thin, with mousy cheeks. Her husband was with her; he was very stodgy, and he looked lost and confused. The boy was frightened and pale, seeming unsure if going to Hogwarts was the right thing to do.

Ginny’s eyes were fixed on the woman, and Harry asked what was the matter. “I think I know her, as if she was in a dream.”

Ron was staring too. “Oh, it’s her,” he said, bemused.

“Who?” Hermione asked, in a tone that bordered on threatening.

“The one who used to call me ‘Won-Won.’ But it’s strange, who is that she married?”

The Potters and the Weasleys approached Lavender Brown, for indeed it was she. And Harry knew instantly whom she had married.

“Dudley!”

“Cuz? Fancy meeting you here,” the man addressed said, his eye twinkling.

“So you’re Dudley Dursley?” asked Hermione. “It’s funny we’ve never met.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t a small world, like some people propose to think,” the man said, laughing.

“This is my wife Ginny,” Harry said, and his spouse shook hands with Dudley, “and these are my friends, Ron and Hermione. Oh, yeah, and there’s James, my son.”

“How d’ye do?” Harry’s cousin asked. “This is my wife, Lavender.” The woman thus addressed was blushing deep-scarlet; it was very awkward being introduced to a man one had kissed before.

“We know her,” everybody said. “She was in our year at Hogwarts.”

“And finally, this is Patrick. He just turned eleven,” Dudley said, introducing the kid who seemed to be eager to hide.

“Reminds me of you when you were a chap,” Harry remarked, “except without the thick skin.” It was remarkable to see the skinny lad next to his chubby father. Dudley informed the gang that Patrick shied away from food as much as possible; it was so distasteful to him, the mere thought of eating.

Harry induced James to take Patrick with him on the bus, so that Dudley’s son would not feel so alone. Just then the train gave a whistle, and the elder boy took the younger by the arm and ran with him to jump on the vehicle, which had already started to move when someone pulled them inside.

“Oh, thank you, Yerris,” James said to his would-be girlfriend. He already made plans to ask her to the Yule Ball—which his father had told him about—but it was too early to worry about that at the present moment.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Yerris asked.

“Yes, this is Patrick Dursley. I think he’s my second cousin, or something; just met him today.”

Patrick waved five shaky fingers, and Yerris asked if he could stay in their compartment. James was so thrilled at being invited to share a compartment with Yerris that he didn’t mind having the little bugger tag along, although he planned to dislodge himself of this burden as soon as possible.

While this was going on, Lily and Hugo were engaged in a scintillating conversation. “We’ll both be in Gryffindor, just you wait!” the former said.

At that moment, a pale-faced third year with a pointed chin came into their compartment. “Don’t count your dragons before they hatch,” he told them.

“Oh, Scorpius, must you always talk in riddles?” Lily asked.

“You don’t even know me, Potter. But I suppose your brother has been telling you tales of how I get on his nerves. Look, I’ve come to make a compromise. You come with me, and abandon your loser of a cousin, and I’ll ensure that you get put into Slytherin.”

“Why would I want to be in your twisted House?”

“Twisted, isn’t it? It’s not evil, if that’s what you think. We’re just ambitious, that’s all. So, what do you say? Will you part company with this riffraff, or will you get your hopes up on a cowardly dream?” Scorpius extended his hand.

Lily spat on it. “You can take that for all your name-calling! Albus warned me you were a bad ‘un, but to think you would dare call my cousin riffraff! Get out!”

Scorpius looked discouraged, and he obeyed her word, walking out of the compartment like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“He’s the riffraff, if he thinks I’d abandon you, Hugo.”

“We should probably get our school robes on soon,” her cousin said, pretending to be undeterred.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

Hugo left his cousin alone so she could change. When he came back half an hour later, he was dressed as well, and he was carrying myriad treats from the snack cart. “Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Cherry Ants, Sugar Mice…they have everything on this train.”

“I’ll take a frog,” Lily said, grabbing one. She had a large collection of cards, and she was shooting for the whole set. “Hmm…Art Paldstone (1774-1812), Perfected the Hovering Charm and turned whalebone into a trumpet which is used to soothe dragons who have gone out of control.”

“Sounds like an interesting guy. I expect we’ll be learning a lot about wizards in History of Magic.”

“I don’t reckon so. Albus told me its just a bunch of Goblegodook about goblins named Erd the Weird and Ballant the Terrible who started bloody wars and stuff.”

“We get enough about war from listening to your father,” Hugo said.

“Yeah.”

For the rest of the ride to Hogwarts they spoke of various topics, without any interruption. At last, the train stopped.

“First years, first years, over here.”

Lily pulled Hugo after her, and they approached the gatekeeper, who was rather sleezy with a long beard that reached the floor. Partick was there too, along with thirty-nine other students.

“I’m Brodd, and you’ll be riding in boats with me. See there?” the gatekeeper said, pointing. “No more than four to each one.”

Lily and Hugo climbed in one boat together, along with two other children. They rode through a tunnel, and ended up on the side of the looming castle. Brodd ushered them all in, where they met a man with slick hair and red robes. “I am Professor Acklehort, and I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts. But that is immaterial at the moment; as Deputy Headmaster I must lead you into the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your Houses.”

They followed him down a narrow passageway, and led up to giant brass doors, which the professor opened. In two rows they walked before the eyes of the older students, and Lily admired the floating candles and general mystique of the Great Hall. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Albus was waving at her.

At the end of the Hall, there was a chair with a dusty hat on it, which Lily knew to be the one used for sorting. It certainly looked queer, unlike any cap she had ever laid eyes on.

“You will put on the Sorting Hat,” Professor Acklehort said, “as I call you up alphabetically. When your House is chosen, you be required to sit at the indicated table before the next pupil can take his or her turn. And now, let the sorting—begin!”

Each of the forty-two students stood nervously, waiting for their turn.

“Alvost, Norton.”

A boy with sandy hair stepped forward and placed the hat on his own crest.

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table with a flag depicting a bird roared in congratulations to their new comrade, inviting him to sit down.

“Azzos, Susan.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Again the applause, the excitement. Lily knew only too soon that it would be the Gryffindors cheering her on.

“Dursley, Patrick.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Scorpius had an empty seat next to him, and Patrick was invited to sit there. Lily did not know it was her cousin who had just been sorted; she had not had a chance to talk to James yet, and, of course, she had already been on the train when the Dursleys showed up.

Many more names were called, before at last she heard Professor Acklehort say, “Potter, Lily!”

All eyes were fixed on her, as they had been for her father twenty-eight years before. She was the first girl who bore Harry’s surname, and any connection with her would be a direct link to the greatest living historical figure. There was not a person in the room not holding her/his breath, not even Lily.

As soon as the hat had touched her head, it pronounced its judgement, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Never before in the history of Hogwarts did that House give off such a round of applause as it did now. Everyone from their table was standing and shouting; it was so deafening that people from other tables had their ears covered with magical earmuffs. Lily meandered around other tables to reach the Hufflepuffs, crying a little—her face was red, she had been so sure she would be in Gryffindor! When she got to the table, some sixth and seventh years lifted her on their shoulders as if she had been a star player in a Quidditch game. “WE GOT LILY POTTER!”

It was a full ten minutes before everyone calmed down and Lily was able to take a seat. She wanted to be alone, but she knew the opportunity would not come for an awful long while. Lowering her head, she tried to tune out the rest of the expedition.

“Ahem…well, that was—breathtaking,” said Professor Acklehort. “But we still have a handful of students left to sort, so let’s move on. Quasnos, Feveral!”

After he had gone a little further down the list, he at last got to, “Weasley, Hugo!”

Ron and Hermione’s son approached the chair, and he was crested with the Sorting Hat. “GRYFFINDOR!”

Before he left the front, he glanced over at Lily, who had lifted her head just to view his Sorting. Smiling apologetically, he waltzed over to the Gryffindor table and sat between James and Albus. The latter was bitterly disappointed. He had been hoping that his sister would be in his House so that he could guide her, and now one of his expectations about this year were gone. Recalling his dream, he shuddered, and thought he heard Voldermort whispering in his ear, “You’re worthless! You’ll never be your father!”

The Deputy Headmaster read a few more names that were sorted, and then he rolled up his scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. When he came back, he went to the teacher’s table, and he was in sharp contrast to everyone else there. His red robes were explicit against the black ones of his colleagues.

Professor McGonagell stood up. She was now Headmistress, had been so for many a year. “Welcome, all. For our first years, I say be proud to be here at last. Everyone else, enjoy the continuation of your tenure here at Hogwarts. Now, I would like to introduce you to a new staff member. As most of you know, Proffesor Inklebot was getting too old to continue teaching here, so without further ado, I’d like you to meet your new Charms teacher, Professor Ivan Sootboro!”

A man in his early twenties with an aquiline nose stood up. He bowed, and people cheered. It was always exciting to see a fresh face in their professors; the same old bunch every year did get monotonous after a while. Sootboro resumed his seat.

“For our first years, we have some rules to announce, and you can’t say after tonight that you were not forewarned. All artifacts, gadgets, and doodads from the store known as Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes are barred from use. And no one is permitted to enter the Forbidden Forest without explicit permission from an adult. That said, let’s eat!”

Instantly plates appeared on the tables in front of everyone, along with dishes of pot roast, chicken fried steak, venison, fried rice, mashed potatoes, sandwiches with waterwurst, graham crackers, and countless other food. There were also goblets of pumpkin juice for each student, which refilled instantly whenever someone had drunk the whole glass.

A fourth-year noticed that Lily was not eating. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.

“No,” she lied. She reached for a chicken leg—her least favorite part—to give off a semblance of being okay, but she could barely take four bites before she felt like vomiting.

Pretty soon, all of the main dishes disappeared and were replaced by chocolate pudding, treacle tarts, s’mores, cinnamon buns, and glazed doughnuts. Yet still Lily reached for nothing. She was too miserable to eat. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, she saw Scorpius chatting animatedly with her cousin. Why didn’t she take his advice? Being in Slytherin would be way better than being in this joke of a House! Look at what they had for a flag, by Merlin! A stupid badger! As opposed to a lion, a snake, or an eagle, the badger was absolutely pathetic. Hufflepuffs were supposedly the leftovers, the people that just didn’t fit. Lily could feel her own mediocrity running through her veins. How could a daughter of Harry Potter—the wizard who rid the world of the most evil force that ever existed—how could she be just another commonplace stooge? She had really believed herself to be exceptional just by the distinction her father gave her, but if she couldn’t even be in his House, what was the point?

At last, everyone had their fill, and Professor McGonagell stood up once more. “There is one more thing you must be made aware of. The Triwizarding Tournament is to be held this year, and only those students who are of age may participate. Our competition will arrive near the end of October, and I expect you to be on your absolute best behavior when they do. You are now dismissed.”

Some Hufflepuff prefects called the first years over. They went out of the Great Hall, through a strange door, down some stone steps, and past a hall full of paintings depicting food. At last that reached the door to the Hufflepuff dormitories, in which a beaver statue was blocking the way. “Password?” it asked.

“Bricklebrit,” said one of the prefects, and the beaver gave way. Lily saw her first glimpse of the Hufflepuff common room, which was stranger than anything she could have imagined. There were chintz chairs around tables which she surmised people studied by; fleurs-de-lis covered the wall, and there was a giant pool in the center of the room.

The prefects led the first years over to the pool, which was not really a body of water but only looked like one.

“The purpose of this is to view your family at home. Whenever you feel down and out, you can just approach this psuedo-pool and think happy thoughts. Sort of like when you’re casting a Patronus—though most of you won’t catch that allusion, I suppose, although Lily here certainly would!”

All eyes turned to Harry’s daughter. Of course she would know all about Patronuses—her father wax the worst fear of all dementors.

The feamale prefect resumed speaking. “If you lose sight of these thoughts, your family will disappear from the pool’s waves. Most likely, if there faces are wan and they have suffered a great deal, you will only see them for a second before they vanish, for that feeling will be reflected in you. Now, this pool is the secret of Hufflepuffs; the other Houses are not allowed to know about it. I will now show the girls to their dormitories, and the boys can go with Peter.”

Lily and four other girls followed the prefect up some stairs. There were several rooms, and they were led to one with the words, “First Years” sparkling in purple and yellow glitter.

Five four-poster beds awaited the new Hufflepuffs, and their stuff was already there in a neat little pile. The prefect left them to sort out whose things were whose, after telling them to get a good nights’ sleep because lessons would commence the next day.

One of the girls approached Lily. “So, you’re the Potter girl? I’m Bethany Garfinch.”

Bethany was wearing star-shaped glasses and had her hair tied in a bun. The other three were staring at Lily, mouths agape.

“There’s nothing extraordinary about me,” Lily said, “so what’s all the fuss?”

“Are you kidding? I was talking to Elizabeth Porkner, Hufflepuff’s Head Girl, and she said that your presence in our House was the best thing since Cedric Diggory in your father’s day. For centuries the Hufflepuffs have been the joke of Hogwarts—but with you in our midst, we’ll be able to make astonishing comebacks.”

“But I’m just another girl; that’s why I’m in Hufflepuff, the leftovers. I wasn’t good enough to be in the other Houses, so what makes you thing I’ll bring prestige to yours?”

“You’re lacking in self-confidence,” said one of the others, who had pigtails and cherise-colored eyebrows. “I’m Susan Azzos, and I think that even if you don’t have high spirits, just your presence in our House will elevate everybody’s morale, and eventually the other Houses will be forced to see that Hufflepuff does have what it takes!”

The other girls cheered, but Lily was not consoled. “Let’s speak of this in the morning, please?” Then they left her alone.

As she fell into a deep slumber, she wondered if, once her parents discovered her House placement and she peered into the Hufflepuff pool, she would see the most bitter disappointment spread across their faces. She could remember two years ago, when her uncle had facetiously said, “If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disown you.” James, Albus, and Hugo had made it, but she had failed.