Rose Weasley hurried along the halls of Hogwarts with her favorite cousin, Albus Potter, at her side. They stole a quick glance at one another and shared an almost manic grin, then quickened their footsteps to keep up with the crowd of first years.
They had both made it. They were both in Gryffindor.
Rose breathed a small sigh of relief as the first years, led by Rose's elder cousin, fifth-year Gryffindor prefect Victoire Weasley, began to climb a set of stairs. Halfway through their ascent, the staircase gave a great shudder and detached from the landing for which they were heading, swinging slowly around to another landing about forty-five degrees to the left.
Albus's eyes widened; Rose suppressed a small giggle. Her mother had told her to keep an eye out for Hogwarts staircases, and their notorious penchant for changing their occupants' destinations, though whether for greater good or ill Hermione Weasley had not said.
"It's quite all right," they could hear Victoire saying at the front of the group. Her voice held just the slightest trace of a French accent. "This is a common occurrence, no need to panic. We're actually closer to the common room this way."
Catching her younger cousins' eyes, Victoire gave a small smile in Rose and Albus's direction before winking and continuing the journey to Gryffindor Tower.
"This way, please, first years, stay close."
Rose could not take in enough on the way to the Tower; she stared avidly at her surroundings and the paintings on the walls, a few of whose inhabitants winked and waved at the first years as they passed. Briefly Rose wondered about the enchantment that animated a portrait—was it, for instance, basic Charmwork, or did the portrait itself need to be cured in a special potion—?
They had arrived at a large portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress, who beamed fondly down at the crowd of new Gryffindors much like a proud aunt.
"Password?" she trilled cheerily.
"Salutamus," replied Victoire, grinning and flicking two fingers at the portrait, rather cheekily, thought Rose.
"And welcome to you all!" cried the Fat Lady with a cheeky salute of her own, and the portrait swung silently forward to reveal the hole in the wall that Hermione's parents and extended family had often described as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
As the eager crowd pressed forward, Rose felt a thrill of excitement, and looked again to her cousin. Albus's expression mirrored her own, and as they stepped toward the portrait hole, it was with the unmistakable air of two children who were embarking on a new and thrilling adventure. For a moment, all her mother's frantic precautions and her father's indulgent advice faded to the back of her mind as she thought of everyone in her family before her who had entered this very same hole and found that adventure—more than they'd ever imagined lay before them. And here they were now, she and Albus, following the path trodden by their siblings and cousins and parents and all their family.
It's our turn now, Rose thought, and, gripping Albus's hand tightly for a moment, after which he gestured for her to precede him, she climbed through the hole into Gryffindor Tower.
"So? What do you think?" Victoire curled her legs under her on the couch, looking very much like her mother: elegant and beautiful. "Is this what you expected?"
Albus grinned at her, and at his brother sitting beside him. "Well, mostly. It's not as if I haven't asked everyone in our whole family about Hogwarts a thousand times, is it?"
James laughed and reached over to ruffle his younger brother's already naturally untidy hair. "'Spect that makes you a right fountain of knowledge, do you, Al?"
"Gerroffome," mumbled Albus, trying vainly to smooth his wild cowlicks.
"Or would that be Miss Hogwarts: A History, here?" continued James, switching his grin to Rose, who was seated on the carpet at Victoire's feet, her nose already buried in the aforementioned book.
"Like I could top Rosie at that stuff," retorted Albus, flinging himself back onto the couch. "She's just like Aunt Mione, she is—"
"And what about you, ma petite fleur?" Victoire leaned forward and ran a hand through Rose's brown curls, just as unruly and thick as her mother's. "Are you enjoying your first day away from home?"
"Mmm," replied Rose absently. "You know, Mum's right, they really ought to have gone further in-depth about the staircases in this passage, they mention an approximate count of how many staircases there are at Hogwarts, and the main ones that lead to the most frequented areas of the castle, but they just barely mention that the stairs move on their accord, see, here, it says—"
Victoire sat back with a rueful laugh. "You are right at home, I see. But Maman did say that you would have no trouble fitting in."
Rose looked up, distracted. "Who said what?"
James and Albus roared with laughter, and Victoire shook her head. "Nothing, belle rose."
With a shrug, Rose returned to her book, and James and Albus fell to discussing Quidditch; James was planning to try out this year, and Albus was enviously listening to his older brother's plans for his tryouts.
"I reckon if I can pull off the Sloth Grip Roll a couple of times, they'll take notice," James said eagerly, leaning forward so that his red hair caught the firelight, making it gleam almost golden, like a nimbus around his head. "And then, once they're watching, I'll do—"
"Do you think you could do Damian Rothchild's move?" Albus asked his brother. "Dad's been teaching me, but I haven't got it yet."
"'Course I can!" his brother replied, looking affronted. "But do you reckon I should save that unless I really bollocks it up?" he asked worriedly.
"Like you could!" snorted Albus. "Uncle Ron says you fly just like Dad. Lucky," he added gloomily. "Wish I could try out for the team this year." He brightened momentarily. "Oi, d'you think they'd lift the restriction for me? I can fly too, you know, and they did it for Dad…."
"They did a lot of stuff for Dad," James said dismissively. "He claims it was 'different times' and all that. I wouldn't count on it, mate."
"You're right," conceded Albus with a disappointed sigh. "Guess I'll have to wait until next year, then, eh?"
Victoire yawned and blinked at her cousins, giving her the look of a slightly puzzled kitten. "It is well past ten o'clock. You should not stay up any longer, or you will be too tired for classes tomorrow."
At once, Rose glanced up, slammed her book shut, and stood, brushing off her school robes. She stared at the boys pointedly where they remained indolently lounging on the sofa.
"Well?" she tutted, for a moment sounding very much like her mother. "What are you waiting for? Do you want to fall asleep during your very first class at Hogwarts, Al? And you, James—you may be in second year, but you should be setting an example for your brother, not encouraging him to focus straightaway on something other than his schoolwork!"
James and Albus snickered, much to Rose's consternation, and Victoire laughed openly, uncurling her legs and rising to her feet to emrace her younger cousin.
"Ma petite fleur, you are always a delight to watch! I shall truly enjoy having you here at Hogwarts."
"S'pose I've bored you senseless, have I, in the past year?" said James casually.
"And what am I, a stage prop?" demanded Albus.
Rose accepted and returned the hug gracefully, shot exasperated looks at the boys, and sighed, "Good night, you two. Don't stay up too late." She smiled up at Victoire.
"Bonne nuit, Vicky."
"Bonne nuit, ma belle rose." Victoire watched as Rose headed up the stairs.