Five by Five

Disclaimer: Sure, JKR and other wealthy letters will decide to milk some more cash out of them someday. Until then, I'll just have a little uncompensated fun with these characters and their setting.

Scorpius would never forget the moment he first saw all the lights of Hogwarts Castle glittering over the lake. It was partly because it was a beautiful sight, and partly because he felt a pang of sorts, wondering if Malfoy Manor used to look something like it. And the moment was memorable at least in part because some people in their boat, Al included, WOULD NOT SHUT UP.

One chap in particular wearied Scorpius' ears; MacMurray or some such, who had an older brother and a long list of ancestors in Hufflepuff, and who appeared to have swallowed Hogwarts: A History whole and was now regurgitating it, page for page.

"...and that's why I can't wait to get to the Common Room, Eddie says the couches are so soft you don't even feel like leaving them to sleep in your beds, and it always smells of old books and biscuits baking, because we are next to the kitchens, you see, and..."

"What if you aren't Sorted into Hufflepuff?" Al interrupted.

"Beg pardon?" The other boy sounded affronted at the very suggestion.

"Not everyone in the same family winds up in the same House," Al said. "I don't know if I'll be with my older brother, and I'm beginning to think I'd rather not."

"But... but... why wouldn't you?" Scorpius was amused despite himself. James had sounded amazed at the idea. This complete stranger was appalled.

"I'm off at school now. Perhaps it's time I was my own man," Al said, and Scorpius was torn between irritation at the fact that they just would natter on, and wanting to laugh at the sheer pomposity of Al's remark, which rivaled the other boy's know-it-all air.

"Perhaps it's time you both shut your cake-holes," Rose said. At least, that's what Scorpius thought she said. It sounded as if it came out through clenched teeth.

"Rather! Who are you, to talk to me like that?" The would-be Hufflepuff boy sounded scandalized.

Hagrid's low chuckled cut through their argument. "Watch who you pick a fight with, lad," he said. "That'un can take care of herself. Just like her mum, she is."

"Not altogether," Rose sulked, albeit quietly so as not to openly contradict Hagrid. "I love Quidditch."

Maybe I can pretend they're frogs and crickets. Scorpius leaned his chin on his hands, trying to unobtrusively cover his ears. It worked until Al started poking him in the shoulder.

"Psst... Snidge! Rosie! We've got to talk."

Scorpius sighed under his breath. Rose was a little more forward with her objections. "What now?"

"Before we get to the castle, we should decide: are we all firm on this...that we'll be in the same House, no matter what?"

Scorpius hesitated. "Shouldn't we... I mean, if we're to do that, oughtn't we decide on a House beforehand?"

"We could all just follow who the Hat Sorts first," Al suggested. "I'm game."

"Well..." Rose hedged. Scorpius could tell she felt it was almost as bad an idea as eating candy for lunch, but equally, not without its temptations. Scorpius empathized fully.

"All right, if I go first, I'll just go where the Hat sorts me and make out as best I can, on my own!" Al said rather hotly.

"I'll go with you," Scorpius said, but his somewhat meek declaration was smothered by Rose replying, equally agitated.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic! Fine, I'll agree to it. Whomever Sorts first, the rest follow," she said.

"Let's swear to it, then," Al said.

"Not a Wand Oath, surely," Scorpius said, alarmed. He'd been warned against those quite strictly by Grandmother.

"Not on your Nelly," Rose said. "Word of honor will do." She directed the last towards Al as if in warning.

Al nodded vigorously. "Right. Where one goes, two follow, and luck to that first one!" He stuck his hand out, and Rose clapped hers atop it. Scorpius took it to mean that he was to follow suit. He put his hand on Rose's hesitantly, but gave it a quick squeeze lest his pledge seem lukewarm. It seemed to satisfy the cousins, who both nodded.

"Now be quiet and let me enjoy the lights," Rose said, her voice brooking no argument. Scorpius sighed again, happily this time. The rest of the boat ride passed all too quickly, but in relative peace.

They made their way up the slippery steps to the light of a tall door. Hagrid addressed the stout, blond man who opened it.

"Firs' years, a whole fresh batch for ye, Professor Longbottom," he announced cheerfully. "Guess I oughtta say 'Deputy Headmaster Longbottom,' an' congratulations on yer promotion."

"I'd rather you didn't...but thank you, Hagrid," the Deputy Headmaster said. He directed his attention to the students. "Since Hagrid has tended to the introductions, follow me, you lot. You don't have to do anything in particular for your Sorting, but do try to put yourselves in some order. Oh, and gaping at the Great Hall is expected...just try not to miss your name being called." A few nervous giggles greeted this. The professor gave a slight smile in return, which seemed to freeze on his face when he saw Scorpius in the crowd. At first, Scorpius thought he imagined it; but every time he looked up, Professor Longbottom had his eyes on him.

"Why is he looking at me?" Scorpius asked Rose.

"You're like a candle flame in the middle of all the black robes, especially with Al and his mop next to you," Rose answered. "It's harder not to look at you."

"Is he bothering you, Miss Weasley?" Scorpius found Professor Longbottom looming over them, with not too pleasant an expression on his face.

"Not at all!" Rose sounded as shocked at the idea as Scorpius felt.

"We're best mates, Rosie and Snidge...Scorpius...and I," Al said, slinging an arm around both their shoulders. "And Mum sends her love."

For a fraction of a second, the Professor's mouth hung open like a fish's. Scorpius would have laughed save that he was aghast at how familiarly Al had addressed a professor. If the elbowing that Rose gave Al was any indication, he wasn't alone.

Professor Longbottom got his mouth back under control and blinked his eyes a few times. Scorpius was growing a bit weary of adults looking at him with that strange expression, as if they weren't sure if he was going to explode or some such at any second. "Right," he said. It was just the polite side of disbelief. "You'll have to remember to guard against familiarity with your professors...Mr. Potter." It was a mild enough warning, but Al looked sheepish nonetheless.

"Sorry, sir," Al said. He gave Scorpius' shoulder a squeeze before letting go. It came to Scorpius that Al had been shocking on purpose, just to throw the professor off balance. He certainly knows how to get around a grown-up, Scorpius thought. Better not mention that in my letter...

Scorpius could have sworn that Professor Longbottom...or should he call him Deputy Headmaster?...rolled his eyes a little. "Tell her likewise," he said for Al's ears only, just before he crowded them into a small waiting room.

As soon as his back was turned, Al winked at Scorpius. Definitely not putting that in the letter, and that was the last chance Scorpius had to think before the Great Hall was revealed and the acceptable gaping commenced. Scorpius did recover his wits enough to think, I shall work hard and learn how to make a ceiling like that for the Solar...Grandmother would adore it, once he heard names being called.

It only took a handful of names before Scorpius almost lost those recovered wits. They're doing this alphabetically. By last name. Scorpius trembled, his breath coming short. They'll call me first. Before Al or Rose. The Hat will Sort me first.

Scorpius grabbed Al's wrist, causing his friend to startle and drawing curious glances. "I can't," he whispered frantically. "I can't go first. I was going to pick whatever House you were in."

Al worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. After a bit, he shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he whispered back. "Between you and me, and Rose, we'll manage any House. No pressure."

"But..." Scorpius forgot to whisper. A few glares and a 'SHH!' were fired his way, and he fell silent, hot-faced and no less panicked. He tried to find Rose's face in the crowd, but she stood in front of them. All he could see was the candlelight glittering on her auburn curls.

Lots of Hufflepuffs were being minted this year, to enthusiastic welcomes from their new House. One more sober-faced girl joined the Slytherin table, to stilted applause. The Gryffindors were growing bored after their initial gains, fidgeting and whispering until they drew a few glares from the Head Table. The Ravenclaws applauded everyone politely, and for a very precise interval. Scorpius thought he detected the pale-haired Prefect that Al identified as Cousin Nicky giving a signal to begin and end the clapping. All the while, the alphabet counted down.

Suddenly, Professor Longbottom called, "Malfoy, Scorpius!" Scorpius tottered forward, propelled by Al's encouraging slap on the back. Before he cleared the final row of students, someone caught his sleeve. He turned to find Rose looking at him, scared and yet defiant.

"If you go coward on me...if you take the easy way out...I will never forgive you, Scorpius Malfoy!" she whispered. For such fierce words, she sounded on the verge of tears.

Scorpius nodded, barely able to breathe. No pressure, he thought, feeling ready to faint.

Everything was monstrous in size...the stool was a mountain to climb, the Hat a great maw threatening to swallow him. Hagrid hadn't seemed as large as the Deputy Headmaster, whose lion's mane of blond hair was as wild in its way as Hagrid's snowy top. Scorpius hoped that no one noticed how he was shaking as he sat and waited for the hat to land on his head.

Suddenly, the lights went out. It took him an anxious moment to realize that it was only the Hat drooping over his eyes. Godric Gryffindor must have had a large head, he thought.

"Indeed. Some might even have called it a swelled head," a voice chuckled.

"If you please, Mr. Hat...I would prefer not to be in Gryffindor," Scorpius thought desperately. He wondered if manners meant anything to talking clothes that could hear one's thoughts and had a sense of humor.

The Hat seemed not to notice. "Malfoy, Malfoy... Time was I always knew where to put a Malfoy, but the world has changed."

"We've always been in Slytherin," Scorpius suggested tentatively. What if Lysander and Lorcan were a special case? What if Rose had heard wrong?

"All the Malfoys... but there is blood in you that is not so Malfoy, if this old Hat can sense correctly. Curious, indeed."

When no announcement (or even further commentary) seemed forthcoming, Scorpius dared speak up. "I want to be a credit to my name."

"Your loyalty would serve you well in Hufflepuff. It sings in your soul, pure and true," the Hat offered.

Scorpius thought of Lysander and Lorcan. "I have two friends there." It wasn't an unpleasant thought. As annoying as the cross-lake commentary of Hufflepuff's biggest supporter had been, the Common Room he described...warm, yellow-wood-paneled common room with its round doors, bouncy, black velvet sofas, and cozy proximity to the kitchens...sounded quite fun. "But... they'll still be my friends no matter what House I'm in."

"Courage like that is straight from Gryffindor. You would do well there," the Hat said.

Scorpius felt on much firmer ground here, and despite James and Louis being all right chaps, he was still resolved to stay well clear of the House of Fred. "It's braver to go where you're likely to be unpopular than to take the easy way out."

"A Ravenclaw would appreciate that logic."

Scorpius wavered. Mum would be happy if I was in her house. It would go easier on Al and Rose. They have cousins there. His resolve thinned to the breaking point.

Still, the Hat had made no announcement. Something in Scorpius pushed against the idea, and suddenly, the words for it came to him. "It should be four equal houses, working together. Right now, Slytherin is put down. I want to go there and accomplish... great things. Honorable things. I want to win respect...for me...and I want it to reflect on my House." He hoped the Hat couldn't hear him think, I don't really want to find out what it would look like if Rose never forgave me...

The discussion that only Scorpius and his temporary headgear could hear had gone on for so long that the Great Hall began to stir with murmurs. Scorpius began to feel a little lightheaded from holding his breath.

"That," the Hat said finally, "is one of the most interesting ambitions I have ever heard. I think, young wizard, that you would do credit to...

SLYTHERIN!"

Scorpius practically fell off the stool. He scarcely noticed the Deputy Headmaster plucking the hat from his head save for the fact that the room suddenly became much brighter. He walked to his new place, focusing on the warm applause and curious, if slightly guarded, expressions of his new Housemates and ignoring the murmurs, anemic applause, and occasional hisses from the rest of the House tables. The two unhappy girls and one boy who had been sorted into Slytherin earlier looked at him with distinct relief. They're glad not to be the only ones Scorpius realized.

It seemed as if he had no sooner settled into his place and nodded a greeting to them before he heard, "POTTER, Albus Severus," called.

It was interesting; Scorpius thought the Hall had been quiet as each new student was called to be Sorted. He realized that he was wrong. There had been murmurs here and there, robes rustling, a cough or sneeze, a bench creaking. There was none of that now. Never mind hearing a pin drop; Scorpius wagered you could now hear a quill drop. It was as if someone had cast a Sonorus Spell on Al so that every rustle of his crisp, new robes and the funny slap-squeak of his ratty shoes echoed through the room, if not the entire castle.

Al gave the Deputy Headmaster a quick version of his lopsided smiled and hopped onto the stool. The professor gave a small smile in return. A faint anticipatory vibration, not quite a sound, rippled from the Gryffindor table. Scorpius felt a flicker of doubt, but before a firm thought could form about the Hat's willingness to take suggestions or Al's will to make them...almost before the Hat did more than brush the tips of Al's wild hair...that venerable piece of headgear bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"

"YES!" Al's soft exclamation may as well have been a shout. He hopped down from the stool, causing it to scrape shrilly across the stones as if it was leaping away from him in shock, and his shoes flapped loudly as he all but skipped to the Slytherin table, beaming all the way.

The poor Deputy Headmaster looked completely befuddled standing there, glancing between Al and the Hat, holding the Hat wrong side up and squinting into it as if he was searching for some defect. A riot of sorts started at the Gryffindor table which no fewer than three Professors drew wands to quell, the Hufflepuffs now sounded as well as looked like a beehive, and at the Ravenclaw table, a considerable throng had gathered to comfort Cousin Nicky, who had broken out in sobs. The Slytherin table looked torn between a sort of euphoria comparable to all their birthdays and Christmases coming at once and abject fear lest someone declare it was all a joke. Al acted oblivious to all of it, clapping Scorpius on the shoulder with one hand and shaking hands with their three fellow first years (Scorpius noted that they introduced themselves as Pearl, Amaryllis, and Jonathan, but didn't quite catch their surnames) with the other. Scorpius couldn't help it. He started to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Told you," Al said. The brightness of his grin hadn't diminished. "Now we'll just wait for Rosie."

Scorpius privately thought he wouldn't blame Rose if she changed her mind about following them. Four more students were Sorted almost unnoticed in the uproar resulting from Al's choice.

But the number of unsorted First Years dwindled to a scant handful, and Rose was called up as the second 'W'. The Hat seemed to give it a bit of thought before (somewhat dazedly, Scorpius thought) declaring Rose for Slytherin as well. The uproar was only from the Gryffindor table this time, though Scorpius fancied he heard a brief sound of dismay from Ravenclaw. Rose held her head high like a queen and fairly swept along toward their table. The other three girls made room for her, and she returned their tentative smiles with a somewhat brittle one. Scorpius didn't really notice where the last few were sorted. Rose was the final Slytherin. The Headmistress made remarks and introduced professors, and suddenly, Scorpius was confronted with food as far as the eye could see...not a moment too soon, as far as his stomach was concerned. Al was a marvel, being able to both eat and answer (or deflect) questions from all corners of the table, which came thick and fast as their new Housemates realized that they indeed had one of those Potters, and not some coincidental namesake. For all their curiosity, the manners and level of reserve at the Slytherin table were somewhat closer to what Scorpius was accustomed to. Perhaps I am in the right place.

Rose picked at the welcome feast. She held her head high again as they exited the Great Hall, but her lip stuck out most unpromisingly. Before Scorpius could ask what the matter was, a streak of red came crashing through the Slytherin ranks. Scorpius only just realized it was James and Louis in time to avoid a panic attack. Do those two ever go anywhere without leaving a trail of destruction? he wondered. The Slytherin Prefects, having no such foreknowledge that it was only James and Louis (and on closer inspection, Lysander and Lorcan bringing up the rear), were not spared Scorpius' alarm and drew their wands.

"Relax, it's just my brother and my cousin," Al said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, "Oh...Hi Lysander, Lorcan," he added, belatedly noticing the other two boys. "And hi, Molly. Anyone bring Nicky and Vicky, maybe Roxy? We could have a House-and-Family reunion."

"Dominique is distressed that once again, no one chose Ravenclaw." Scorpius blinked at the statuesque young woman in an artfully tied Ravenclaw scarf who had just addressed Al so reprovingly. It was hard not to stare; her hair was almost pink.

Two Slytherin prefects, two Hufflepuff ones, and one Prefect passerby each from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were suddenly all left standing with their wands out, looking slightly bewildered and perhaps embarrassed. Scorpius gathered that it Simply Did Not Happen that all four Houses gathered in the corridor together without needing some sort of intervention.

"Give over, Victoire, or I'll write to Teddy and say you were snogging the Head Boy," James said.

"Are you sure they shouldn't all be in Slytherin?" Scorpius overheard an older Slytherin, maybe a Third Year...he seemed about James' height...whisper to another.

"You really did it! What on earth are Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny going to say?" Louis was a combination of awed and aghast.

Al shrugged. "Guess I'll find out, won't I?"

James shook his head. "Nevermind. Why I came over is, did you see what happened to Fred?"

"No, what?" Curiosity dented Al's nonchalant façade.

"He tried to shoot fireworks at the Slytherin table DURING THE SORTING!" Lysander and Lorcan said.

"One of Uncle George's blockbusters," Victoire added, forgetting that she was a Seventh Year and far too sophisticated to get involved in such gossip.

"Professor Longbottom and Hagrid hauled him and three other boys out by their robes just before the Feast started, and I heard the word 'Suspension' bandied about." This came from the female Hufflepuff Prefect, whose auburn locks looked lacquered into their neat bob and whose glasses were so lacking in smudges they sparkled.

This seemed to wake up the other Prefects to the fact that their Houses were crowding the corridor to bursting, with a sort of inter-House social hour threatening to break out in card games, jokes, fights, and who knew what manner of other curfew-breaking activities. Of one accord, they began herding their charges up or down their respective flights of stairs.

Before Al, Scorpius, and Rose could make good their escape, Louis and James darted back.

"Uncle Ron's going to be spitting tacks," Louis said solemnly to Rose. She folded her arms and looked defiant, but said nothing.

"More like he's going to be eating nails and shitting spikes," James said. "It's been nice knowing you, Rosie."

Scorpius decided that Al most assuredly had not cornered the market on interesting turns of phrase. He wasn't sure he'd ever find an occasion to use this one, though.

Al rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the news. Good night, guys,"

The nearer they came to the dungeons, the more slowly Rose dragged her feet. Once they reached the corridor where the Slytherin Prefects called a halt, she dashed the sleeve of her robe against her eyes and ran. Scorpius tore after her without a second thought.

He followed flickering shadows and the sounds of footsteps until there were no more, and then he followed the sound of choked sobs. He finally found her crouched behind a tapestry of somber-looking medieval people, sniffling miserably. He knelt beside her and did the only sensible thing he could think of: rummaged about in his robes until he found his handkerchief. It was even clean.

"Is it so bad?" he asked.

"M-m-my d-d-dad is going to k-kill me!" Rose ended on a wail. She blew her nose loudly on the offered handkerchief. Scorpius looked at it with some dismay, wondering how many were packed in his truck. He was pretty sure he'd tucked one under Mr. Mouse's head, as a pillow...

"Surely not," Scorpius said. He wished he could have sounded more certain. James didn't seem to be joking.

"He said he'd disown me if I wasn't in Gryffindor," she whimpered.

"Oh." Scorpius was at a loss. Disowned! It was an awful word. He didn't know the precise definition; but he understood that it had happened to Aunt Andromeda once. She'd been sent away and Grandmother hadn't seen her for years and years, until they were both old. That sounded horrid. Who takes care of you if you are disowned? Scorpius wondered, quite worried now. Maybe there was some way he could help?

Quite quickly, an idea came to him and he was thoroughly pleased with himself. He had wanted friends to come over, after all! "I... if something like that happened... you could stay with me. I mean, there are lots of rooms in our house," Scorpius said, gazing up at her earnestly. "Father has made very nice furniture for two of the guest rooms, and all the plumbing works pretty well these days; it does get drafty, but most of the fireplaces work now, and Mum casts stout warming charms for overnight...and we've a fine garden, so even if money is a little thin, we always eat very..."

He was cut off by a hug that was more of a flying tackle. "Um... is this how you always hug? I might need to learn to brace myself," Scorpius asked, out of breath and more than slightly overwhelmed.

Rose pulled back. She wiped her nose and smiled at him a little sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just... Thanks. Thank you." She smiled more warmly. One of her arms was still around his shoulder. Scorpius suddenly felt as if he'd done something absolutely brilliant, and how could she make that happen just by smiling? Clearly, this was some new sort of magic.

"C'mon you two, quit snogging and get back to the Common Room," a voice came out of nowhere.

Scorpius jumped about a foot. Rose scrambled to her feet, yelling and waving her arms angrily in the general direction of the sound. "We were NOT...Al, you rotter! Uncle Harry gave you his invisibility cloak!" If Rose had sounded envious about the owl, Scorpius imagined she was beginning to turn green through her brilliant red blush. He sympathized. An INVISIBILITY CLOAK!

Al appeared out of nowhere, flourishing a silvery length of fabric. "Actually, I won it off James in a card game. He thought he was going to steal it back during the train ride, but I outsmarted him." Between the grin and the disappearing/reappearing, he was a tail away from being the Cheshire Cat in Aunt Andromeda's Adventures in Wonderland book. "Look sharp; Professor Davis wants to meet all the First Years personally before lights-out." He looked around, then waved the cloak again. "Get under here, we'll sneak back before they notice we're gone. Stay along the wall so we don't bump into anyone."

Scorpius huddled under the slippery cloth, behind Al and beside Rose, and dearly wished to know what 'snogging' meant, it having been brought up twice tonight. Must be a Muggle thing.

"Al, put your shoes back on," Rose whispered.

Only then did Scorpius notice the Al was in his socks, one toe sticking out, and that his shoes were in his hand. While I agree with Rose, it's something of a relief to know that this is not how the Cloak is supposed to smell.

"Can't; they make too much noise," Al whispered back. They argued for a bit. Scorpius focused on breathing shallowly.

"Bollocks... right, or left?" Al stopped at a junction in the corridor.

"I didn't notice. You were supposed to be leading us back, Mr. 'I'm-wearing-old-trainers-because-my-good-shoes-pinch," Rose hissed. "Did all your 'good' socks pinch as well?"

Al ignored this and began inching forward again, bearing right. Scorpius thought the carved snake on the wall looked familiar, but he couldn't be certain. They were approaching yet another junction, so if they were going the wrong way, they would be even more lost soon...

"Who is that? Stop right there!" Scorpius obeyed immediately. That dark, commanding voice seemed to have spelled his feet to the floor. Rose stuttered to a halt a few steps later, but Al kept gliding along the wall and the Invisibility Cloak slipped off Scorpius altogether.

He found himself standing in front of a most curious painting. It depicted a room lit by at least one tall, narrow window. The room contained a sort of table or desk, and there was a bookshelf off to one side, the titles on the worn spines hard to make out in the wan light of the corridor. More than this was impossible to tell because most of the painting was covered by a heavy, green drape...one so realistic, it took Scorpius a moment to realize that it was part of the painting. The voice had come from behind the green drape. Who paints a portrait but hides the sitter behind a curtain? Scorpius wondered.

The painted speaker's nonexistent breath seemed to catch. "Draco?" the voice whispered. It sounded gentle, almost hopeful. Scorpius wondered if there were two different people behind the drape. This man sounded almost completely different than the one who had demanded they stop.

"Um, no, sir, sorry...That's my father. I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy." Does everyone know everything about my father except me? he wondered.

"But you... of course," the voice sounded almost let down. Scorpius wished he knew what he had done to so disappoint him.

Al whipped off the Cloak and marched over, sock feet and all. He narrowed his eyes at the painted curtains. He seemed no more intimidated by hidden speakers in portraits than he had been by Fred. "He is, and he's my best mate...so if anyone has a problem with that, they'll have to answer to me," Al said.

"I have a... problem... with disobedient, disrespectful children sneaking about in my corridors," the voice said scathingly. Definitely the same one as before.

"We weren't sneaking, sir...at least, we're not trying to make trouble," Rose said. Scorpius marveled at how meek she sounded. It was just the sort of voice adults seemed to love, if cousin Laurel's false humility was anything to measure by. "We're first years, sir, and I got lost. Scorpius and Al came to look for me. We're trying to find our way back to the common room before Professor Davis' speech."

Scorpius had a feeling that the portrait somehow was giving Al a very hard look through the curtain. "I'm to believe that You are a Slytherin?"

"I don't know what you mean by that." Scorpius wished Al would add a 'sir' or two. This painting did not sound like a fellow to trifle with. "But I'm a Slytherin by my own choice, and named after one. Believe it or not, as you fancy."

"Indeed." The hidden subject's voice dripped with sarcasm. "After what Slytherin were you named?"

Al drew himself up as tall as he was able. As they were the same height, Scorpius knew just how unimpressive that was. "Albus Severus Potter is my name, and if anyone has a problem with that, he can talk to my dad about it...he named me for Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, two of the greatest heroes of the war and best headmasters this school ever had...and I'll live up to both of those names! How's that for ambition?"

There was an odd sound from the direction of the painting. Scorpius couldn't make out if it was a gasp, or a thump, or a bit of both, but it sounded remarkably as if the unseen speaker had swooned behind his green drape. "Sir?" he asked uncertainly.

At last, there was a throat-clearing sound from the invisible speaker. "I hardly dare ask... would your name, young lady, happen to be Weasley?"

"Rose Weasley, sir," she answered. "I don't mean to be rude, sir, but if you could please point us toward the common room, we really need to be off."

The speaker ignored Rose's request to take their leave. "And your parents... met at school? Your mother's name wasn't... Granger?"

"Why, yes, sir," Rose asked, clearly bemused. "I'm sorry, I don't quite see..."

Suddenly, the corridor echoed with the most peculiar sound. It took Scorpius moments to figure out that it was a sort of chuckle. Scorpius looked at Al and Rose to find their faces echoed his own bewilderment.

The hidden speaker, having finally regained control of his humor, addressed them. "You, Mr. Malfoy, have most peculiar taste in friends... though it may yet serve you well. You, Miss Weasley, have your work cut out for you. And, Potter..." There was a sort of sigh. "I live here, after a fashion. Do try to leave a few stones still atop each other when you graduate. And for magic's sake, put. On. Your. Shoes." There was a pause, so long that the children thought he was gone. "Oh, children... the Common Room is precisely fifty feet down the left branch of this corridor. The password is Wormwood. Do not let yourself be found outside after hours again. I will not be lenient twice." The painted curtain rustled. It seemed clear that the subject of the painting had left.

"I did have the sense to stay around long enough to hear the password. Honestly," Al said. Scorpius guessed he was feeling put-out by the remark about the castle. He had put his shoes back on, though.

"What on earth did all that mean?" Rose asked.

"It means that you three have been singled out for particular attention. Feel flattered; he usually doesn't address first years, even from behind the curtain," Professor Davis said, scaring them rather badly. She had a mild enough voice, but there was an organized look about her that seemed somehow formidable.

"Begging your pardon, professor...who is he?" Rose was afire with curiosity. Scorpius could practically feel it radiate off her.

"If he wants you to know, he'll tell you," Professor Davis said. "Now get in there...Our House is not going to start the term with a Point deficit. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor!" they chimed, and fairly ran down the corridor. Scorpius tried to pay attention to Professor Davis' remarks about looking after each other and exemplary behavior being as important to winning the House Cup as marks and Quidditch; but he feared he had not swallowed his yawns completely. He perked up a bit when the Prefects gave a quick tour of the Common Room; the mention of the Owl Chutes, in particular, got his attention. Apparently one needn't travel all the way to the owlrey each time there was something to be posted if one's own owl was well-trained enough to fly down one of two long, chimney-like tunnels when called. School owls could not be summoned thusly. Scorpius was disappointed until he remembered that he and Al were sharing Agate, who was surely the most well-trained and beautiful owl in the school. That pleasant thought buoyed him up enough to find his way to their dorm and to their shared bathroom by following the back of Al's head. It was a good thing Al wasn't a girl, or he'd have ended up in the wrong dorm.

He was staring stupidly at his trunk and trying to get his tired brain to choose between digging out Mr. Mouse or his pajamas; Mr. Mouse was winning because he didn't have to be put on. Rather, sleep was winning because he had almost toppled over on top of the green blanket, still in his school robes and shoes, when Al's voice jarred him back upright.

"Huh?" Scorpius asked.

"I said, d'you want to borrow Agate? I'm sending a letter, and she might as well take two as one."

"How are you still conscious?" Scorpius asked. He would have been more indignant, but he was glad of the chance to fetch Mr. Mouse and take off his shoes. Perhaps he would put on the pajamas after all. Two of the other boys were already asleep, and the third wasn't to be found. Al was intent on his letter. This business of sharing living space would be a significant adjustment.

"How'r you able to say 'conshuzz?'" One of their dorm mates tried to question Scorpius, but a yawn swallowed the end of it. He hadn't been quite as asleep as he'd seemed. Scorpius scrabbled about his brain for the boy's name and came up with only a surname, Sugden. He was spared trying to answer by the boy lapsing back into snores.

Al shrugged. "Once I knew what House we were going to be in, I kind of relaxed. It uses less energy than being nervous, I think."

"We've only known what House we would be in for the last hour," Scorpius argued. He pulled on his pajama bottoms. They weren't as confining as the blue trousers, but he still missed his nightshirt. Father had said that Muggle things were the fashion, though, and he must not stand out unduly unless it be for something positive. Not terribly different from Professor Davis' speech, come to think of it. So tired. Still... I'd hate to forget it all before morning, or ask Agate to make separate trips. He put Mr. Mouse on the bed and found his parchment and quill. Laurel's gift of a self-inking one had seemed dull at the time, but Scorpius was glad of it now. He didn't have the energy to look for his ink bottle.

"I've known since we put on our school robes," Al said.

This woke Scorpius a bit. "What? How?"

Al fidgeted. "I knew...all about the Sorting, that is. That it's alphabetical, and the Hat will let you choose. And when you got your robes from your trunk, I saw that."

Scorpius followed the line of Al's pointing finger. "You mean M..." Scorpius stopped. He suddenly wasn't sure if Mr. Mouse was quite mature enough a name for his teddy. "...my bear?" he finished.

Al nodded. "He's the only silver ted with a green bow I've ever seen," he said, nodding sagely. "I knew you were going to be Sorted first. I knew you'd be in Slytherin because of him. So..." he shrugged, that half-smile back on his face. Scorpius saw it and realized that the beaming grin was all for show. This is the real Al, the one his family gets to see. The one I get to see. Really, there was too much about Al to put in a single letter, even if it was advisable.

"Just my luck, I'm in the barmy House." Both Al and Scorpius jumped a little, neither having realized that the other boy had returned from the bathroom. He'd been the one who'd introduced himself as Jonathan-something. He directed his scornful remark at Mr. Mouse.

Scorpius debated defending Mr. Mouse. Al saved him the trouble. "Says the man in the Pygmy Puff pajamas," Al scoffed. "Go to sleep, Cantwell, you're knackered and not making sense."

There was some grumbling from behind the bed curtains, but all was soon snores.

Scorpius sat at the table beside Al and made a valiant effort to form neat letters and coherent sentences. After all, somewhere in that recitation of news, he had to convince Mum, Father, and Grandmother to take in Rose if it proved necessary.

She oughtn't cost much to keep. She doesn't seem to eat much and she already has her wand and all her books. I promise you will all like her, especially you, Mum. She is very smart and responsible.

Yeah, there's only one person you're thinking of when the Voice Behind the Painted Curtain...the guardian of the route to the Slytherin Common Room...accosts Al, Rose, and Scorpius. And you're right. -_^

The title phrase 'five by five' originated with a scale to measure the quality of a radio broadcast; with five being the top score possible on each of two measures, five by five indicates a broadcast of ideal strength and clarity. By extension it has come to mean "I understand you perfectly.'

I'm feeling almost as sleepy as Scorpius. Shall we finish here? Maybe an epilogue? * swallows a yawn *