SO this is new...I had fun writing it. It ends slightly abruptly, so if you like it and want more, let me know and I'll be happy to move forward, I have stuff planned already:)

"You've changed, then?"

"No, Al, these are just robes I've enchanted to look like Muggle clothes," Rose said, rolling her eyes as she slid into the compartment. Albus flushed and glared at his cousin while Kenneth and Tanya tried to hide their giggles.

"I was only asking! You always wait 'til the last second to do everything, I'm amazed you weren't planning to change out of your robes on the platform," Al said airily, trying in vain to retain a trace of dignity. He winced as Kenneth elbowed him in the ribs, the Irish boy's thick blonde hair falling like it always did over his bright, impish eyes.

"Excited to get back home, are you?" he said with a grin. "I can understand, with a family like yours."

"What, crazy?" Al asked, eyebrows raised. Kenneth brushed his hair back and shrugged, which immediately dislodged his bangs and sent them flopping down over his forehead again.

"Me, I've got my Uncle Seamus and a summer of working his miserable old cauldron shop up in the old country." He layered the last two words with disgust. "At least you go places, do things! All of you do," he said with a resentful glower at Rose and Tanya. The girls exchanged glances. Albus smiled as he braced himself for their double assault on his best friend.

"If you want to get invited to stay this summer, Ken, all you have to do is ask," Rose said, a smile playing around her moth. Tanya tugged her thick dark braid and nodded, her heart-shaped face carefully arranged into a serious expression.

"Yeah, my mums would love to have you stay with us," she said in her soft voice that carried more humor than any shouted joke of Kenneth's or barbed quip of Rose's. "We've got this lovely little room you could sleep in, already furnished and everything…of course, you'd have to share with Droon, but he's such a sweet dog I'm sure the two of you will get along fine."

"Hysterical," growled Kenneth as Rose and Albus laughed. "Really funny."

The minutes ticked by as the four friends sat and talked together, occasionally munching on goodies from the candy trolley. Ken's loud laugh made the window panes rattle. Rose, playing with a single strand of her short hair, leaned back in her seat and grinned as she spoke. Tanya drew her knees up to her chest and kept them all in stitches with her perfect delivery of stupid jokes. And every once in a while, Al would turn from the others and look out over the passing countryside, his breath misting on the cool windowpane. A strangely pleasant feeling was beginning to creep over his stomach, like he'd drunk a warm glass of cider on a cold day.

The first year at Hogwarts had been, if not everything he'd hoped for, then everything he'd expected and maybe more. That night, shivering from the trip across the lake, staring out over miles of black pointed hats and floating candles, a tremendous lump lodged in his throat, Rose's hand tight over his wrist…it was still clear as crystal in his mind. He could hear the soft voice of the Sorting Hat, whispering curtly in his ear…Very brave, I can see that, and intelligent, oh yes…a good heart, maybe a few doubts to hold you back but that'll sort itself out soon enough…and a determination to try and try again…or is that ambition? Slytherin could help you, Hufflepuff could raise you, Gryffindor could push you, Ravenclaw could hone you…where, where, let me see…

And then, before he could stop himself, a picture of his parents smiling at him, their hands laced together and their eyes shining, had flickered into his mind. Ah, so that's why, the Hat had hissed shrewdly. Well, don't choose just for them, sonny boy, I certainly won't…but you've got your mind set, I see, and I can't argue with it, after all…all right then…GRYFFINDOR!

Al closed his eyes and remembered the wonderful swooping in his stomach, something like the feeling of riding a broom, as he'd run towards his brother at the Gryffindor Table. It happened again when Rose, her bushy red hair barely brushing the brim of the Hat, was pronounced a Gryffindor and flew at him and James with a tremendous grin, knocking his hat off and nearly pushing James off the bench. And then he'd watched the rest of the Sorting, never suspecting when he saw the short blond Kenneth Finnegan sorted into Hufflepuff and dark Tanya Neyremov sorted into Ravenclaw that two of his best friends had been sitting on that spindly stool. And that boy that his uncle had pointed out at the platform…Scorpius…when the Hat proclaimed him a Hufflepuff, Al had seen the strangest expression slip over his face: a mixture of terror and relief, if that were even possible.

Days and months and seasons blurred in Al's mind as trees slipped by outside the window and his ears rang from the game of Exploding Snap that Rose and Ken were playing. Potions with Professor Slughorn, desperately attempting to sort ingredients while fending off questions about his parents and invitations to dinner parties; glowing with pride in Defense Against The Dark Arts as Professor Herald praised his jinxes; visiting Hagrid with Rose, Ken, and Tanya, laughing and chipping teeth on rock cakes while Talon, Hagrid's black boarhound puppy, drooled into Al's lap; perfectly Disarming that jumped-up git Goran Danvers on his first try at Dueling Club; doing homework by the lake, exploring the castle after midnight (held very close together under the Invisibility Cloak), lounging in one of three common rooms, beating James at Gobstones, dipping and dodging and occasionally missing his old familiar Nimbus as he flew a school broom over the grounds…

It had been a good year, even a great year. And if every once in a while a sliver of doubt, a tiny shred of disappointment, crept into his mind, he never let it stay too long. Ever since he could remember, Al had heard stories about his parents' days at Hogwarts. They'd run all over the place, especially Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and Dad, and not a year had gone by where they hadn't done something amazing. Sorcerer's Stones and basilisks and centaurs and mass-murderers-turned-dearly-missed-godfathers—and that was only what Al and his brother and sister and cousins had been told. More than ever in recent years, Al could see gaps in the stories, portions of their past that were as thoroughly ignored as others were retold. It was bad enough spending his first month at Hogwarts fielding questions about his family from every direction: it was another to not be able to answer most of them. He'd even gotten his father alone in the kitchen during Christmas break and tried to confront him with his concerns, but Dad had just coughed and started searching for Butterbeer in the pantry.

Here he was, Albus Potter, the son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, his first year at school come and gone and not a single mad adventure under his belt. No three-headed dogs in closed corridors, no merpeople kidnapping Ken or Rose or Tanya and holding them hostage. Exams, watching Quidditch, helping Hagrid gather some irate bowtruckles—those were his memories from Hogwarts so far. And as happy as they made him, Al couldn't help but feel a sense of anti-climax. He couldn't even decide whether or not to ask James about it: after all, his big brother had seemed to rather enjoy Al being around this year, and he didn't want to ruin the peace with the possibility of a row.

Somewhere overhead and towards the front of the train, a whistle blew. The Hogwarts Express was weaving past buildings now, its crimson cars sliding effortlessly through impossibly small gaps. Outside, students were rushing up and down the corridors, following friends, searching for lost pets, and dragging trunks behind them. Rose stood up and stretched, her bushy hair falling around her face in a way that made her look startlingly like her mother.

"C'mon," she said bracingly, "let's get our trunks down now; we don't want to get off the train ages after everyone else."

"Why all the rush, Rosie?" Al asked innocently as he got to his feet and reached for his trunk in the luggage rack. "Just can't wait to tell your dad about every single perfect score on every single test in every single class?"

"Nah, it's not that," said Ken as he clamped a binder clip over his Exploding Snap deck. "She doesn't want to miss the chance of running into her favorite little Slytherin bloke, does she? Think Davis might give you a kiss if you say hello to him with that special Weasley cha—OW!"

"You deserved that," said Tanya sweetly as Ken hopped on the spot, clutching his soon-to-be-bruised shin. Rose smirked.

"For your information, Kenneth, I can't stand Davis. Always arguing with me, thinks he's so clever—"

"I notice you don't try too hard to stop him arguing with you, though," said Al with a raised eyebrow. "And just think how pleased your dad and mum will be when they find out you fancy a Slytherin." Tanya shot Al a look of disgust while Rose rolled her eyes and pushed him aside as she went for her trunk, trying in vain to hide the blush creeping over her ears.

"If you must know, Al, I just don't want to be seen leaving the train with you. People might think I had some kind of charity organization going on," she said smoothly, pulling her trunk down onto the floor. Kenneth laughed and tugged at his trunk a little too hard: it flew down from the rack and knocked him to the ground.

"It's not funny!" he was still insisting minutes later, a reluctant grin stretched across his face, as his three friends continued to roar with laughter. The Hogwarts Express was moving very slowly, its pistons hissing with steam as it neared King's Cross Station. Students were beginning to crowd by the doors, clutching their possessions and jabbering unintelligibly as they waited to reach Platform ¾. Tanya, whose mothers were somewhat more protective than the rest of her friends' parents, wanted to go wait by a door so as to be first out of the train; grudgingly, Rose, Albus, and Kenneth all agreed, dragging their trunks out of the compartment and squeezing into the narrow hallway. Rose stood with her face half-pressed against the glass door as she watched the station creep closer and closer. Tanya was nervously playing with her braid while Ken and Al exchanged last-minute jibes with passing students. A warm, tingling feeling of return was descending over all of them.

"Well, isn't this cute."

Al's teeth ground involuntarily as he turned to face Danvers, his pug-like face arranged into a haughty smirk. Marius Rowle stood next to him, more muscled than the wiry Danvers, round-shouldered, and forbidding as always. Standing together, shoulder-to-shoulder, they blocked the corridor.

"Waiting on tip-toes, are we?" Danvers continued with almost tangible disdain. "Afraid our famous mummies and daddies might have forgotten about their ordinary children? I'm sure they would have loved to meet the train, but they probably had to go sign autographs or something." Al felt Rose bristling like a knarl beside him, the fuse of her temper as short as it always was where Danvers was concerned. His own heart was beating a little too fast, and anger was tightening his spine like a bolt wrench.

"It's gotten old, Danvers," said Ken in an attempt at offhandedness. "Why don't you clear off, if you can see well enough from behind that vertical conk you've got." Danvers flushed.

"You're one to talk, Finnegan, with that thatch over your eyes. Go back to your dirt shack in Ireland and take your pet ghoul with you," he said acidly, his cold brown eyes darting towards Tanya. All of a sudden, a sudden blow to the shoulder sent Al stumbling into a wall: he saw Rose's red hair flash past him, and heard her cry of fury and Ken's labored grunt as he restrained her.

"Let me go—get off, Ken, you won't stop me this time, I'm going to kill him with my bare hands—"

"Oh ho, are you?" said Danvers with delight as Rowle leered menacingly. Al noticed faces turning towards the sound of Rose's struggling and saw that people were beginning to drift curiously down the corridor towards the little knot of first-years. A low murmuring from behind told him that the same thing was occurring in both directions. Outside, buildings were drawing ever closer to the window and the whistle blew overhead again—they were just about to reach the station.

"Back off, Danvers, or I'll make you sorry," he snarled, reaching for his wand. Danvers' smug grin grew wider.

"We're not in school though, Potter, are we?" he asked with mock surprise. Rowle gave an affirming growl. "No, that's right, we're almost home—so no chance to go pointing your wand around. Not that it would do any good anyways, not when you've got no reason to cheat just to beat Weasley at being teacher's pet—"

"Shut up!" Rose shrieked, straining even harder against both Ken and Tanya's hold. "You keep this up all year when there are teachers breathing down my neck and now you walk up and start running your ugly mouth on the train? I'm sick of it, I'm not going to take it from you anymore, you spoiled lump—"

"What the hell is this?"

James struggled out from among the steadily growing gaggle of spectators, his Muggle clothing disheveled and his eyes narrowed. Danvers and Rowle whipped around, their smirks fading slightly at the sight of the older student. Al's stomach tightened: as much as he was all for avoiding a fight, the last thing he wanted for James to rescue him and his friends from Danvers in front of everyone on the train. His brother sticking up for him was one thing, but to have James break up Danvers and Rose was more along the lines of humiliating.

"The other Potter, eh?" Danvers said disdainfully, carefully rearranging his face back to haughtiness. "Figures you have to keep each other from smudging the legendary family name…of course, Weasley's just as good as Potter, isn't it? Oh so special and famous, the Potters and the Weasleys…too bad there's nothing behind the labels. Hard to keep up the image that you're better than everyone else when being a spineless piece of filth always gets in the way."

"You're bang out of order, you little prat," James began angrily, but Rose cut him off with the simplest of gestures: she spat at Danvers. The gob of spittle landed on the neat cuffs of his trousers and he roared in anger, while shouts, cheers, and curses erupted among the surrounding audience; Ken made an involuntary "HA!" noise, Tanya hissed, "Rosie, don't!" and Al felt a wave of pride in his cousin wash over him.

The windows suddenly grew black as the train slid underground, and the corridor was temporarily lit by the golden glow of flickering wall-lights. Rowle cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, but Danvers threw an arm across his path. His chest was heaving, his pug face contorted. Rose stared at him, grimacing with triumph.

"So that's your game, is it, you stuck-up troll?" Danvers hissed. "Well, enjoy it, Weasley, because that's your right, like it's the right of vermin everywhere. Ugly little bits of scum that don't deserve to be around normal human beings—normal wizards." His face was suddenly animated by some inner malice, and at that same moment the lamps went out and bright rays of light burst through the windows, throwing everyone inside into sharp relief as the train scraped to a final stop at Platform 9 ¾.

"Yes, normal wizards, that's the rub," Danvers continued, his sneer growing wider by the second. "I suppose I can't blame you for acting like you do. It's just a question of blood, isn't it? It's not your fault at all—it's your blood traitor father's fault, for marrying your Mudblood mother."

Al's vision seemed to explode into a red swirl of fury, and he reached for his wand, planning to hurt Danvers, torture him, make him beg for mercy—but he was too late, far too late. Before he even touched the stick of wood in his pocket, there was a sudden scuffle beside him, Tanya screamed, "No!" and a loud bang echoed through the corridor as Rose charged Danvers, grabbed him by the collar, slammed him against the door—and then, as happened each year like clockwork, every single door on the Hogwarts Express opened at the same time, and Rose and Danvers disappeared from sight as quickly as if they had Apparated.

Al knocked people aside as he scrambled towards the doorway, unable believe what had just happened, but then his head emerged into the warm smoky air of Platform 9 ¾ and he saw countless parents stumbling backwards and shouting in alarm as Rose and Danvers flailed madly together on the ground, fists flying, legs kicking, Danvers shrieking and Rose screaming insults. Al felt a blow land between his shoulders, and heard Ken yell, "Get 'em, Rosie, knock him out!"

"You horrible worthless pampered brat, you slimy piece of garbage, I'll kill you, I'll break every bone in your body—"Rose didn't seem to be drawing breath, but the tirade never stopped for an instant as she wrestled with Danvers, pummeling him with every ounce of strength she possessed. Wrenching her body backwards and up, she straddled him and landed two quick punches, one with each fist, squarely hitting first his lip and then his left eye. Raucous cheers poured from the students who were clambering out of the train, while parents and younger siblings crowded around and stared with shock at the thrashing pair. Al himself let out a shout of victory as Danvers received another blow, this time to the nose. The platform, the train, his fellow students, the world, were all suddenly much more beautiful than they had been before, and this year was the best that any student had ever had—

"ROSE AMELIA WEASLEY!" roared her father as he shoved his way out from behind a wall of parents. His ears redder than his flaming hair, Ron strode up to the two-person melee and unceremoniously plucked Rose off of Danvers, grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt with one hand and wrapping his other arm around her stomach. Hermione, her mouth open and her hair flying around her face, emerged from the crowd. She stared at her daughter, who looked quite mad as she attempted to punch her father in the ribs.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME AT HIM!" she screeched, flailing like a small child having a tantrum. Ron turned and marched back towards the crowd, which opened before him like parting waters. Rose's fading curses mingled with protests from students who wanted to see the fight continue and a quickly rising slew of chatter from the distressed parents while Hermione followed Ron, moving away from Danvers just as his pug-faced mother ran to him and bent low, her shrill cries mingling with the rest of the din in the station.

Al jumped out of the Hogwarts Express and ran after the disappearing Weasley family, pushing through parents and ignoring the calls and shouts from behind. He heard a muttered oath and knew James was following him. His trunk, Ken and Tanya, even his waiting family were all forgotten in the wake of this final upheaval. Though Al knew Rosie would be in unbelievable trouble, he couldn't help but feel electrified.

Al finally spotted the Weasleys as he struggled out of the final crush of people pressing forward towards the train. Ron had set Rose down in a corner of the platform, but maintained such a firm grip on her arms that she appeared to be unable to move them away from her body. That didn't stop the endless barrage coming from her mouth, however.

"I don't care, I don't care if you have to arrest me, Mum, that scum, that little toad, I'm going to knock out every tooth he has if it's the last thing I do—"

"Rose, if you don't calm down right this second I'm going to use a Full Body-Bind Curse and you know I mean it," Ron said fiercely, maintaining his straitjacket-like hold on his daughter. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Fighting like a lunatic, we didn't raise you like that!" Hermione added with acid in her voice. "And in the middle of everyone, on the train, what could you possibly be thinking!"

"Mum, you didn't hear him, you have no idea what he—"

"It doesn't matter, Rose!" Ron barked, shaking her slightly. "You don't have to jump on someone every time they say something foul or call you a name, we've talked about this! You promised me this year would be different—"

"If that boy provoked you, you could walk away or tell someone or show him you're better than that, you don't think hitting people when they say things you don't like is a way to—"

"Really disappointed in you, Rose—"

"If you had done him a permanent injury—"

"What could possibly convince you that attacking him was—"

"HE CALLED YOU A BLOOD TRAITOR!" Rose roared, wrenching herself out of her father's grip and staggering back a few paces. Behind Ron and Hermione, Al and James instinctively stepped back as well. "HE CALLED YOU A BLOOD TRAITOR AND HE CALLED MUM A—HE CALLED HER—IT—"

But rage and decency struck Rose dumb. She stood, silently fuming, glaring at her parents and cousins. Al's stomach seemed to drop down into his shoes, and he leaned forward to peek at Ron and Hermione's faces. They both looked as though they had been slapped. The two of them were staring down at Rose blankly; she met their gaze, her arms crossed and her red hair flying wildly around her head.

"I don't care what anybody says, if someone uses that word about my family—if someone uses that word at all, I'm not going to let them get away with it. It's evil," she said fiercely, "and I'll pummel them, so help me I will. Punish me if you like. I won't let it happen, ever."

Al held his breath and hoped Hugo wasn't about to become an only child.

In one swift movement, Ron knelt in front of his daughter. "Two things, Rosie," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the bustling on the platform. "One: if you ever do something like this again, to anyone, I will take away your broomstick and your Cannons hat and everything you hold dear in this world, so help me God. You will regret it one hundred percent. And two…" Ron's eyes flicked up to Hermione, who was watching with pursed lips. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he looked back at Rose. "And two, I'm proud of you."