(A/N) An experiment. Something lighthearted I wrote this summer and hope will actually turn into a proper story. Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy!

At eleven o'clock the Hogwarts Express, bright red and steaming, pulled out of King's Cross, as it had every year for nearly a century. Bemused ten-year-olds stared about rather wildly, as they had for going on a century, while superior-looking teenagers swayed up and down the train shrieking and hugging old friends. It was a place of beginnings: the place Molly Prewitt first told off Arthur Weasley, the place Sirius Black hexed Severus Snape for the first time (unless of course Severus Snape hexed Sirius Black first), the place a ten-year-old Bellatrix Black met a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, the place Harry Potter befriended Ron Weasley. The place the wizarding history of past century was made.

In a compartment by himself, a small, blond boy swung his legs and read a book. The door was thrown violently open, and the boy jerked. He found himself looking at another boy, about his own age, though rather taller, who was yelling into the corridor, "Hey, don't push!"

The boy by the door turned. He had laughing, hazel eyes and an utterly untidy shock of black hair. "Hi. Can I sit here?"

"Sure." The black-haired boy sat down, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

Then the blond boy asked, "Are you new, too, then?"

"As wet paint," the other boy agreed. "I'm James, by the way. James Potter," he added as an after thought.

"Really? Any relation to…you know?"

James made a face. "My Dad, actually. Why, you mad about him or something?"

"Nah. Just surprised, you know."

"What's your name?"

The blond boy's pale skin flushed. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"At your name? All right, all right, I won't."

"Tiberio Constantine Malfoy."

James snorted a little, but didn't actually laugh. Tiberio Constantine Malfoy looked glum beyond belief. "I know. It's awful. You can't even shorten it to anything reasonable."

"How?" James demanded. "How did you end up with a name like that? Didn't someone talk your parents around? I have a cousin who Uncle Percy wanted to name Nigel, but Uncle Ron talked him out of it, thank goodness."

"It was Grandmamma," Tiberio explained. "She said that's what she wanted me called, and Papa didn't complain because he likes Latin names, and Mum didn't complain because she had a cousin who died in the first war named Constantine. But I don't know what I'm going to do for school. I mean, honestly. No one but my family can call anyone Tiberio Constantine with a straight face."

James snickered at the thought of telling his family his best friend was named Tiberio Constantine. "All your family can't call you that. I've just got James and I still seem to have a different nickname for every family member."

"Well, the twins (they're two years younger than me) call me Timmy, but I hate that. Dotty Great Aunt Rilly calls me 'that scrawny boy of Val's' or sometimes 'the Malfoy brat.' She doesn't like Papa at all," Tiberio explained to a hooting James.

"You should definitely introduce yourself as 'the Malfoy brat.' Imagine the looks on people's faces." Tiberio grinned at this too, but persisted.

"Really, though, can you think of anything reasonable?"

James shook his head. "If you don't like Tim, I think you're stuck with Tiberio. It's not so bad without the Constantine, you know."

The door slid open again. A rather stunning seventeen-year-old poked her head in and, seeing Tiberio, grinned "Oh, hello, Tiberio Constantine." James wondered how she managed to make such a mouthful sound so natural. He supposed if one was seventeen and looked like that, some things got easier. "Enjoying your first Hogwarts Express ride?"

Tiberio shrugged. "Well enough. James, that's my second cousin Sophia Lupin. Soph, this is James Potter."

Sophia grinned. "Sophy, please. Only Great-Aunt Narcissa calls me Sophia. Anyway, I'm looking Lucy Hatter, so if you see her…"

She popped out again, and Tiberio muttered, "And we'd know Lucy Hatter because?" before the door opened again.

"Are there no empty compartments on this bloody train?" This girl looked a bit younger than Sophy, perhaps fifteen, and a shock of rather bushy red hair. "Jamie! So this's where you've been. Cheers."

James grinned. "Cheers, Chas. Seems the day for cousins. Tiberio, this is my cousin Charlotte, who goes by every possible variant of it except Charlotte. Chas, this is my friend Tiberio."

"Cheers, Tiberio. D'you have siblings here? You look familiar."

"Sophia Lupin's my second cousin, if you know her."

"Sophy? I guess that's it. You have the same nose. See you about, halflings." And Chas popped out again.

The two boys looked at each other for another minute. "I suppose you have a lot of family here, yeah?" Tiberio finally asked.

"I guess." James didn't sound particularly thrilled by the thought. "Dad works here, of course, Arthur-not-Nigel is Head Boy this year, and Richard's a sixth year prefect. Chas is in fifth year, then there's me. All the rest are younger, except for René and little Gabby, who go to Beauxbatons. Well, René's graduated, but he went there. You?"

"Sort of. I mean Mum was a Fitzgerald, so nearly all my Fitzgerald third cousins are here, but we don't actually know each other. Other than that, there's just Sophia."

"No fair. I have half the family keeping an eye on me. I bet you won't have to see your parents 'till Christmas."

"Not unless something unexpected comes up. Say, what house do you think you'll be in?"

James looked surprise he even bothered to ask. "Gryffindor, I hope. I mean, it's Dad and Mum's old house, and I really want to be in it."

Tiberio made a face. "All very well for you to be so certain. I think I'd like Ravenclaw, but I know Papa and Grandmamma think I'll be in Slytherin."

"They want you to be in Slytherin? I didn't think anyone wanted to be in Slytherin. All the bad wizards came through there."

"Not all, just most." The door had slid open while they were talking, and a girl about their age was leaning in. "Say, can I join you guys? I'm bored of looking at the scenery."

The boys looked at each other, Tiberio noncommittal, James dubious. Then James thought of being forced to sit through the entire train ride alone and, feeling sorry for her, said, "Sure."

The girl slipped in, tossing a thick, black braid over her shoulder. "Why does everyone think Snakes have to be evil?"

"'Cause a lot of them are?" Tiberio suggested, mildly. "Grandmamma is one of the few people I know who's a Slytherin, liked it, and isn't evil. Usually."

"What about your Dad?" James asked. "Thought you said he was in Slytherin, too."

"Yeah, but he won't talk about school. Says he doesn't like who he was then. Which means he was prob'ly evil or unhappy."

James laughed. "My Dad doesn't talk about school much, but that's because I think he thinks it sounds like bragging."

"Why?" the girl asked. "Did he get better grades than Hermione Granger or something?"

"Nah, he's Harry Potter," James said, in a tone of voice that expected to make a sensation.

He was disappointed. "Really. You must be James, then. I'm Calliope Lennox, by the way." She said it so matter-of-factly that James didn't even snicker.

Tiberio, heartened by someone equally cursed with a horrid name, said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Tiberio Malfoy."

This got the surprise James had hoped for. Calliope jerked around to look at him properly. "Oh, bother. I'd meant to avoid you."

Tiberio drew himself up rather, though he was still shorter than Calliope. He said in a cold voice, "Really?"

Calliope didn't appear to notice. "Yes. Pyramus said there was a Malfoy in my year, and I had to meet him. But just because he and Narcissa Malfoy are practically related does not mean I should be friends with her grandson. So I decided I wanted to make my own friends. Why didn't you say?"

Calliope said this very fast, in a rather abused tone of voice. Tiberio and James couldn't help it. They laughed.

"So what house do you want to be in?" Tiberio asked Calliope a little later.

"Well, Gryffindor sounds like the most fun, but I've absolutely no idea where I'll end up. Pyramus was in Slytherin and so was Gwendolyn, but Mother was a Squib, so maybe they won't have me."

"Who's Pyramus?" James asked.

"My grandfather. But he hates me calling him that. He brought me up because Mother died when I was born and my father wasn't interesting in looking after me," Calliope replied matter-of-factly.

"…Oh."

There was a pause. "So where are you from?" Tiberio asked quickly.

"Hogsmeade," James said cheerfully. "I thought it was idiotic to go all the way to London just to take the train back home again, but Dad insisted that I act just like everyone else."

"I don't see why you should," Calliope said cheerfully. "I mean, everyone'll know you're James Potter, so there's no point in going around pretending you're not famous by association. I mean if anyone at school had heard of Corinna Lennox, I'd make sure everyone knew she was my mother."

"Who was she?" Tiberio asked with interest. "The name sounds familiar."

"A poet. Pyramus says she showed great promise, but I don't understand half of the poems. That wouldn't stop me from wanting people to know I was related to her, though."

"I guess. But since I look like Dad, everyone'll know in any case, so actually doing anything out of the way would look like bragging."

"I suppose." Calliope didn't sound entirely convinced, but dropped the subject in favor of Tiberio's original question. "I'm from London, by the way. How about you?"

"London, too," Tiberio said with a grin. "Kensington. You?"

"Posh," Calliope said, raising her eyebrows. "Pyramus lives in Soho, near the theatres. He has ambitions to be an opera ghost."

The compartment door opened again, and a skinny girl with stringy blond that fell in her face peered in. "Say, can I sit here? I just got thrown out of my seat."

"Why?" Calliope asked, gesturing invitingly at the seat across from her.

"'M not posh enough, I guess," the girl said. "Roberta Fisher, by the way. Bobbie, by preference."

"Calliope Lennox."

"James Potter."

"Tiberio Malfoy." Bobbie nodded at Calliope and James and shook the hand Tiberio offered. "So are your families magic?"

Tiberio and James nodded. "My mother was a Squib. Which means my grandparents were, but my mother wasn't," Calliope said. "I take it you're Muggle-born."

"Lord, yes. You should have seen my brother's eyes pop when we went to Diagon Alley."

Someone tapped on the door, and a redhead who looked rather like Chas looked in. "Hello, brat. Said anything to betray your inferior intellect yet?"

"Shut up, idiot," James said cheerfully. "What are you hanging about firsties for, anyway?"

"It's my Prefectly duty to remind you lot to get into your robes now. So this is me telling you." The latter being directed to the whole compartment, he left again.

"That was my cousin Richard," James said, by way of explanation. "He's a prefect because he too clever for his own good, and hates it."

Bobbie giggled. "Do you know lots of people already, then?"

"I guess," James said, as though it hadn't occurred to him to think about it before. "But all of Richard and Arthur-not-Nigel's friends are older and boring, besides."

"Well, I'd best get my robes, then," Calliope said. "See you."

"Me, too," Bobbie said quickly. The two girls left together.

"Say," Tiberio said, staring at the countryside as James tried to find his robes. "How do they decide what house we're in? Dad wouldn't say a word, and Mum kept dropping enticing little tidbits that were not comforting."

"No idea. Mum and Dad won't say. Or rather, they'll say I didn't ask the right questions if I say they wouldn't say. Uncle Fred-and-George hinted at dire things, but since Arthur-not-Nigel's girlfriend (who's dumb as a post) survived, I suppose we will, too."