"Molly, where are we going?"
The redhead in question looked back at the twin boys trailing behind her and responded in a slightly fading southern drawl, "To an empty compartment."
"We passed one all the way back there," Lorcan, the older twin, said pointing to the other side of the train.
"Between two Slytherin compartments," Molly countered matter-of-factly. The boys looked at each other and shrugged and kept after their friend.
After quite a while of walking, the trio of eleven-year-olds stopped at an empty compartment in between a first year compartment and Hufflepuff compartment. Molly took a seat by the window and pulled out a book titled Hogwarts, a History. Lysander, the younger twin, took the seat across from her and stared out of the window. Lorcan sat next to his brother and pulled out a copy of the Quibbler. The train had just started moving when a boy who looked about their age wearing Muggle jeans and a T-shirt barged into the compartment, slammed the door behind him, and plopped down in the spot next to Molly huffing and puffing. He didn't seem to notice the compartment was occupied.
Lorcan spoke first. "What are you wearing?"
The boy looked at them for the first time and seemed surprised. He said in a voice that seemed otherwise occupied, "My name's Brandon."
"He didn't ask for your name," Lysander replied rather bluntly.
The boy looked away from the window in the compartment doors and answered, "What? Oh, er, what did you ask again?"
"What are you wearing?" Lorcan repeated.
"What do you mea... ohhhhh," Brandon said actually looking at them this time, "You're wondering why I'm not wearing one of your weird guy dresses." Molly snorted into her hand. Brandon grinned at her. The boys frowned at him. "I'm a... what did those girls call me... a Mudblood?"
The three gasped. Molly looked at him in shock, "Don't call yourself that!"
He continued talking, "Yeah, it sounds disgusting, but some guy was holding a /toad/ on the platform and I think that's even more disgusting so-"
"No, Brandon, that's not it," Molly interrupted, "Mudblood is a highly derogatory term for a Muggle-born wizard or witch; that is, individuals with no wizarding parents or grandparents. Don't ever call yourself or anyone else that."
"So there are types of wizards?" Brandon asked.
"Technically. There are purebloods like Lorcan and Lysander," she gestured to the blonds, "wizards who have no nonmagical blood in them- or so they say. Those are probably the girls you encountered on the train. There are half-bloods like me, wizards who have a Muggle or Muggle-born parent and a magical parent. There are also muggle-borns, wizards who have no magical parentage like you and a lot of the people on this train.
"Some purebloods believe that they are the superior breed because they have no 'filthy' blood. But that isn't true. If they do have muggles or any other no "pureblooded" anywhere in the lineage, they are just blasted off the family tree. They can't have anyone knowing that they have something so unclean flowing through their veins. But it makes no difference what type of wizard you are. Your ancestry has no say in your superiority!" Molly said crossing her arms and frowning.
Brandon held up his hands in defense, "I never said anything about superiority."
"Right. Sorry," Molly apologized, "It's just that that word's so... so... UGGH!" She threw her hands up in frustration.
"It's that bad?" Brandon questioned. Lorcan and Lysander nodded. Brandon joked, "It's as if the word started a war or something."
They looked grimly at him and he answered in a less joking voice, "I-it didn't start a war or something... right?"
There was a moment a silence before Lorcan snorted and said, "I wish."
"But that was years ago and it only happened twice so we don't have to worry about it," Lysander said in a cheerful voice that insisted they change the subject.
Brandon grinned at Molly in a way that would have had her fainting if she weren't Molly. He said, "So I know their names. Mind telling me yours?"
Actually his appearance could have any girl fainting. He had chocolate brown hair and eyes and tan skin and he wasn't chubby or bony in the slightest. He would have every girl falling at his feet when they were older. That is, except Molly.
She arched an eyebrow, "Why should I?"
He grinned even larger and said in a slightly disappointed voice, "Well, it's just unfair. You know my name, but I don't know yours."
She looked as if contemplating her answer and finally replied, "Molly." She held out her hand to shake. He took her hand in his and kissed it gently. A slightly pink blush blossomed on her cheeks which contrasted greatly with her icy pale skin.
The boys had frowned at this entire interaction.
Brandon sensed the tension and stood up. "Well, it was nice meeting you three." He left the compartment.
The second he left Molly whipped her head around so fast half of the bright red hair in her bun fell out. "What was that about?" she snapped.
"What?" the boys said in unison.
"You know what!" she exclaimed.
"I didn't like him," Lysander said, turning to Lorcan as if he was trying to start a completely new conversation in the middle of their current conversation.
"Me neither," Lorcan chimed.
Molly groaned, "We talked about this. Y'all hafta be polite or ya aren't gonna get any friends."
"You're doing it again," Lorcan said.
She glared at him, "We are /not/ talking about my bad habits. We're talking about yours."
"Ah. Ah. Ah, Molly," Lorcan mocked in a terrible accent, "Ya hafta be polite or ya aren't gonna get any friends."
"Lorcan, I will throw you out of this window," she threatened.
"There's something wrong."
"Huh?" Lorcan and Molly looked over at Lysander.
He was looking at the train's velvet ceiling. He repeated, "Something's wrong." Without any further explanation he opened the window and stuck half his body out of the train window.
"Lysander!" Molly exclaimed as Lorcan lunged for his brother. Lysander slipped out of the window and scrambled up onto the roof.
"What are you doing?!" Molly called out the window. Her bright red hair stung at her face as the wind whipped it around.
They heard Lysander's voice reply from the roof of the train, "I have to tell the conductor to stop the train!"
"Lysander! Stop!" Lorcan called, crawling out of the window after his brother. Molly groaned and slipped out of the window after the two boys.
Molly ran after the boys who were running (clumsily, might I add) towards the bright red engine releasing puffs of smoke. Students stuck their heads out of the window to see what was the cause of the dull, metallic thuds coming from the roof of the train. Of course, they couldn't see the three eleven-year-olds running across the top of the train.
Molly watched Lorcan, who was much faster than her, grab Lysander's shoulder, effectively stopping him. Lorcan spun Lysander around. Lysander had a frantic yet confused look on his face that was very different than his usually aloof, thoughtful face. She saw them exchange words. By the time she had caught up to them Lysander had broken free and started running again.
Molly grabbed Lorcan's shoulder and asked, "What is he doing?"
He turned to her with a grave face, looked at the retreating back of his brother, and back at her saying, "He... he said it was... Whillysnorts."
Molly rolled her eyes which Lorcan did not see. There was nothing to worry about. It was just another of the boys' fantasy creatures. Though Lysander was still running across the roof. The two ran after him.
Lysander did not have a lot of time. He had to warn the conductor to stop the train. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Molly and Lorcan running after him. He wasn't stupid. He knew Molly didn't believe in Whillysnorts. Or Nargles. Or anything else his mother had taught him. But Molly's ignorance was not important right now.
He started feeling really tired, but he kept moving forward. There are some things you just have to do. He felt something hit his head. He looked up. A raindrop hit his eye making him cease running. He rubbed his eye and, squinting, looked back up at the sky. It was a sign.
He ran faster. The engine was nearing.
Hello, darlings! How's life? Beautiful, I hope. Good. Anyway, here something I wrote about a year ago based off of my head canon that something ridiculous happens to each generation of the Weasley Clan on their first train ride. I have no explanation for whatever it was that Lysander "sensed." Just go with it please. And also review! I'd love some constructive criticism. (Keep in mind that this is old work.)
Basically,
listeninggame