Some guidance: This fic is set in the book Universe, focusing on the lives of a group of first years during the events of Goblet of Fire. As such main cast members will appear, but not in a major role. I figured Harry's year can't be the only one with stuff going on, so this is what I see as one of the untold stories. If it goes well I'm hoping to continue this all the way to Deathly Hallows, wish me luck.

Chapter 1 – A Train Journey

"Did you hear about the Chamber?" an excitable 11 year old girl was elucidating gleefully to her captive audience, stuck in a compartment together. Her dark brown curly hair was already liberating itself from her messy ponytail, and she brushed some behind her ear with some irritation as she looked at each of her neighbours in turn.

"Of course. My brother got petrified!" There was a small collective gasp. "He's fine now though. I wonder what'll happen this year…" a small boy of the same age, though he was several inches smaller, with a likewise unruly mop of curly hair, replied earnestly. He looked at the girl with ready admiration, which she absorbed like a sponge. If she had feathers she would have preened. "I'm Dennis Creevey by the way. My brother's actually friends with, you know, him. Harry Potter." Those last words were uttered with the awe and reverence normally reserved for minor deities. The others looked at him appraisingly then turned back to the topic at hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. Something deadly doesn't happen every year at Hogwarts!" this other boy's tone was both dismissive and a little wary. He rubbed his pale hands together and avoided the gazes of the strangers all around him. Better to sit alone than have to deal with this.

"Oh really? Three years ago there was that whole event with the philosopher's stone no-one talks about. Then the chamber opened, Harry Potter fought a basilisk and loads of kids got petrified. I heard one of the Weasleys almost died!" the girl, now the centre of attention, could not be happier. She grinned ghoulishly at her travelling companions, daring them to challenge her.

They were an odd group, certainly not together by choice. The girl currently running the show was sitting by the door of the compartment, leaning forward so as to better communicate. Her general appearance was fairly unruly, with dark out of control hair and attire chosen for comfort rather than style. Her amber eyes were bright with enthusiasm as she pressed on with her tale, confidence boundless.

Next to her, by the window was a tall, pale boy with tan brown hair and hazel eyes. He eyed his companions with disdain as he endeavoured to avoid looking at any of them, whilst also glaring at them constantly. This was rather a challenge. His clothes were crisply tailored and expensive looking, and it is quite possible that the tailor starched the boy's face whilst he was at it. He might charitably be called reserved.

On the other side sat another pale boy, this one with dirty blonde hair. He also had some issue with holding the gaze of his fellows, but that seemed more due to shyness as he was constantly fiddling with his hands, looking as though he was trying to hide.

Dennis Creevey had squeezed onto the end of the row, and was grinning hopefully at his compatriots. He was tiny for his age but seemed to be attempting the opposite of his nervous neighbour, trying to be as big as possible. This was less than helpful on an already crowded bench, but that didn't seem to put him off.

"Someone almost died?" a mousy girl with freckles on the opposite window seat rose to the bait. Her looks of wonder and confusion at each new development picked her out as a muggle-born, perfect for her more confident companion to lecture.

"Yep. They almost closed the school that time. Of course last year was Sirius Black, you must have heard about that one."

"He's still out there isn't he? I wonder if he'll try again this year." Mr Creevey looked as though he could not contain his glee at the thought, which was a bit odd if he was so in awe of Harry Potter.

"Try what?" Despite her best efforts, mousy was having a great deal of trouble keeping up with the conversation. There was only so many strange words and shape-shifting foodstuffs she could stomach at this time in the morning. She hoped there would be a bit more help once they got to the school. Preferably a big book called "How to be a Wizard" or something.

"To kill Harry Potter of course. Every year someone does." This was said with a sagely nodding head, the words of someone in the know. "Especially with all that shenigans at the World Cup."

The mousy girl wondered at that, having not heard anything unusual about the last world cup, but decided to ignore it. "Well I'm not sure I can believe all of that. If the school was as dangerous as you make out it would have been closed years ago." She spoke hesitantly, but mousy was determined not to be cowed. This was a chance for a new start and it was nice not to be known as "the shy one" forever. The boy opposite kept giving her dirty looks. It was rather off putting. She was beginning to wonder if she smelt odd or something. What were wizards supposed to smell like?

"What? Are you not up for a little adventure?" asked the girl, teasingly, "How boring. My name's Felicity by the way, but you should call me Fliss." She held out a hand to mousy who reached out tentatively.

"Ellie. Ellie Branstone."

"Well nice to meet you Ellie. Muggle-born?"

Muggle-that was a word for a normal person wasn't it? That's what the professor had said. She nodded her head.

"Yes. I think so."

"Well welcome to the real world then. Don't worry, you'll be fine. No-one's actually died in years."

That was considerably less comforting than intended.

The boy who had looked so disgruntled sniffed and turned his head away, but the others all smiled and said hello.

"I'm Stewart Ackerly." said the pale, shy, dismissive boy, his serious grey eyes scanning the whole carriage with solemnity rare in one so young. "I'm a half-blood, so I know a bit about muggles."

Ellie nodded, a little nonplussed, as though muggles were a strange separate species, and knowledge of them to be revered.

They all turned to look at the boy at the window, opposite Ellie. He deigned to ignore them, his tan hair plastered to his head like a photograph of an Edwardian school boy.

Apparently not a very sociable Edwardian school boy.

No introduction was forthcoming.