"You have got to be kidding me," a strained voice groaned from the back of a carriage. The thestral picked up its pace as it trotted up a slight incline and the view of stone spires and glowing windows disappeared behind a line of dark pines.
"What?" asked a voice opposite of the original.
"It's beautiful!" the first boy said.
"Hmm," the second nodded in seemingly dismissive agreement and returned to a magazine titled Wand-Tech. According to print written boldly on the front, the latest trend was programmed wands which could be coded to perform certain spells automatically or something. It was stuff the first boy knew very little about and as such, lowered his head a bit. If the other students found things like the latest in wand coding more interesting than the new kid, he had no hope of making friends.
"Yeah it truly is Michael," a friendly boy chided. He sat next to the one reading the magazine, completing the group. Three boys, all coincidentally blond, sat in a triangle in the carriage as it made its way through the winding path of trees. As if picking up on his downtrodden feelings, the boy continued with a goofy smile. "Was your last school not in a castle?"
It took Michael a second to remember, but it wasn't more than a second before his mind flashed back to the wandering halls and steep staircases. "No, the Salem Institute is definitely not a Medieval castle like that. It's more like..." He raked his brain for the right phrase to perfectly capture what the school he had spent the past six years of his life. Three long, square buildings that stretched five stories surrounded an interior quad. Their brick facades were accented with windows whose panes and shutters were white as snow and the mansard roofs were interrupted by dormer windows. At the end of the quad stood the main house which was also made of brick but stood in a circle topped off with a tall, white dome. Twelve white columns held up a triangular overhang that stood out over the grand doorway.
In his head, Michael could remember it perfectly: the way the light shone through the glass windows of the main house, enveloping them in warmth as they ate happily. He could almost smell the grass in the quad as students lounged on benches or flew around on brooms. Every fall, the trees that lined the quad produced the most delicious apples among their golden leaves. Sure the winters were cold in Massachusetts, but the buildings had plenty of fire places and before Christmas the halls were bewitched to smell of pine.
All of this appeared perfectly in his head and Michael knew that, if he only had a quill and some parchment, he could write it all down. However, being put on the spot and asked to describe the campus orally, all that came out was a very eloquent, "It has bricks and...stuff."
"Oh, cool," the boy replied with a nod of his head and glanced toward his friend's magazine. Michael kicked himself in his mind for sounding so stupid. Of course it was a school with hundreds of students and he'd have more time to find friends. He hadn't minded sitting alone on the train. It gave him time to collect his thoughts before hew knew he'd have to put himself out there. Still, it never hurt to have at least one person he was acquainted with before the first day and so far it seemed he was zero for two.
"So Connors, I was working on my Phoenix project and tweaking the core drive, but I couldn't get it to run with the Sapphire System that's in it now." The boy said to the other sitting next to him. Sitting by each other it was clear that Connors was a decent amount taller than his friend and his short, curly hair was all that could be seen over his magazine.
"Mhm," Connors murmured. Michael heaved a sigh of relief internally. It seemed Connors wasn't just short withe new kids, but with his old friends as well.
"Connors! Phoenix project! Core drive! Sapphire System!" the other boy said as he snapped his friend's magazine shut with a mischievous grin etched upon his face.
"Bran you little wanker!" Connors laughed and jokingly smacked his friend with the magazine rolled up.
"Come on you noob!" Bran taunted. Michael smiled with surprise. Like much of muggle slang, "noob" slipped into the language of the wizarding world in America. However, he was amazed it had done the same in Britain. Perhaps things weren't that different there after all.
Watching the two jokingly smack each other and taunt one another would have made most people sitting across from the scene uneasy or awkward. Yet while most things made Michael awkward, he found himself laughing hysterically a the sight. It was so much laughter that the other two stopped their banter and looked at the sixteen year old with a wide grin. Quickly becoming aware of himself, Michael coughed slightly, ran his hands through his short and messy blond hair, and rubbed his blue eyes.
"Uh, sorry," he said awkwardly. "You guys are just a lot different than guys back home."
Michael's breath caught as he hoped he hadn't just accidentally insulted them. The truth was, at Salem he had fallen in with what many called the "popular scene." The only reason for this was that he had known many of the kids since they were toddlers but as they grew older, Michael had found himself feeling increasingly distant from the others. He'd go to their parties, eat meals with them, and be social and friendly, but it took every ounce of energy he had to put up the facade. He'd never really connected with any of them. However Bran and Connors didn't know that and the last thing he wanted was for them to hate him.
Having hopped on the nearest empty carriage, Michael had hoped to continue his trek to Hogwarts on his own. It would have been perfect. He'd have been able to admire the castle and surrounding areas alone and get a last minute recharge but just as the thestrals at the front of the line began moving, two other blond boys around his age had climbed on his carriage.
"It still is confusing to me seeing another sixth year here that I've never seen before," Bran said in his naturally higher voice. The carriage was making the final push up the hill and the imposing entrance to Hogwarts loomed near.
"Yeah, of all those years, I've never even heard of a transfer student," Connors added as he rummaged around the messenger bag he had brought. Michael's cheeks reddened and he scratched the back of his head nervously.
"It's probably not that common. My parents just got jobs with the Ministry here as representatives or something. They said I could stay at the Institute and use a portkey to travel for breaks or whatever, but I...didn't to I guess. It's just easier with them living here." As he spoke his pace quickened. He didn't want to let on how much he had hated the people at his old school, especially because it meant opening up. Though they didn't seem like the kind of people who would try to use what they knew about someone against them, Michael had learned his lesson about trusting someone too quickly.
There was a moment's pause and just as Michael feared he had made things too awkward, the carriage came to a creaky stop and his ocean eyes widened to take in the sight of the castle. Students everywhere climbed out of the carriages and began grouping with their friends. It soon became apparent to Michael that most of them grouped with others wearing the same colored ties. A flash of recollection appeared in his head as he remembered reading something about the house system at Hogwarts. They'd had something similar at Salem, though it hadn't been nearly as prevalent. It was now that Michael became painfully aware of the color of his tie- solid black.
"Hey, Michael come on man," Bran called a few feet away from the carriage. Michael stepped off, stood between the two others and realized that, starting with Bran and ending with Connors, their heights made an almost perfectly straight incline. The three began walking together and, although Michael was starting to feel more comfortable with them, he couldn't shake the fact that they both wore blue and gold ties.
"I wonder what they're going to do about your house," Connors said flatly.
"A very intriguing question indeed Mr. Connors," a strong, booming voice echoed from the doorway ahead of them.
There stood a tall, portly man with polished red hair and trimmed beard. His outstretched hands and glittering walnut eyes gave a cheery demeanor even if his size made him seem intimidating.
"Professor Grant, how are you," Bran asked politely with a handshake.
"Oh not too terribly Mr. Nile," the professor smiled. As the other students walked past their meeting, they called out hellos to the professor and Michael was amazed. He had seen teachers beloved by their students before, but never quite like that. "Now if you two will go ahead with the other Ravenclaws, I would like to have a word with the new pupil Mr. Loren here."
Connors nodded to the man and walked through the doorway. Bran hesitated for a moment, gave an encouraging look back to Michael, and followed suit. As the last of the students fluttered into the entry hall, Michael was left alone with the professor, Grant's glimmering eyes flickering over him as if he was reading a book. Michael gulped nervously and waited, feeling like a convict awaiting his sentence.