Hogwarts From Around the World!

The Year It All Began


Chapter One: Letters in Green


THE JONES-WILLIAMS FAMILY

A young woman carried a large cardboard box into her new home. She had a beautiful tan to her skin, dark eyes and long brown hair that was braided messily down her back. A while back, she had some trouble with her husband. This lead to them splitting up, and her husband taking one of her twin sons with him. However, the woman knew it was better for the boys to be together and with their mother. This was mostly due to their father's… lack of a certain ability. So, after several sleepless months and a long custody battle, she had come out on top. Pleading that her husband was insane and unfit to raise the boy helped too. In order to keep the boys together- and to keep her ex-husband from trying to separate them again, the woman moved her small family to a small town in England, where she had accepted a teaching position at a school she hoped that her boys would soon be attending.

Kaya Jones dropped the box on the nearby sofa and wiped the sweat from her brow. She grinned.

"The last box…" she said with a sigh. "We are officially all moved in. Boys! Come down and help me unpack!" The pitter-patter of her two children's feet came bounding down the stairs. There was a thud that followed. Kaya rolled her eyes and walked over to the staircase, leaning against the doorway that lead to the hall. At the bottom of the stairway, there was a pile of said two children, having seemingly fallen down the stairs... again. The younger twin was piled on top of his brother, who seemed to be having a little trouble breathing under his brother's weight.

"Al, get off...can't... breathe!" The older twin somehow managed to wheeze out in a Canadian accent. The younger brother laughed, and so did their mother.

"Maman!" Kaya laughed once more before kneeling down in front of her sons. She grabbed both boys by their hands and pulled them to their feet.

Although they were her own children, both twins looked absolutely nothing like their mother. The older twin was a small boy of eleven. Matthew Williams had wavy, blond hair that was a little longer than average and parted in the middle. A single curl stuck out from the top of his hair. He had violet eyes that were obscured by oval-shaped glasses.

The younger twin was slightly taller than his brother by about an inch and was far stronger. Alfred F. Jones had short, blonde hair that was parted to the left. On his part, there was a stubborn little cowlick that stood up, curling ever-so-slightly back. His eyes were a brilliant sky blue, and, unlike his brother, Alfred did not wear glasses.

"Sorry Mattie," said Alfred in his American accent as he laughed a bit, "Didn't mean to fall on you. I tripped over one of the boxes... I think."

"What box did you trip over, Alfred?" Kaya asked her son. "There wasn't anything breakable in it, was there?" Alfred stared up at the ceiling for a brief moment in a thought.

"There were a bunch of books in it… oh, and a stick!" Kaya's eyes widened, and she bolted up the staircase. The brothers exchanged looks before following their mother.

Kaya ran into Alfred's room to find one of her boxes had mistakenly had been put in there. Spilled out in front of it were the books she need for her job and a dark stick that was made of pine. In other words, her spellbooks and wand. Oh, did I mention she was a witch?

She sighed as she sat by the box, clutching her wand to her chest.

"Thank god," she said. "You're lucky you didn't break this, Alfred." By now, the twins had reached Alfred's doorway. Matthew and Alfred exchanged glances before looking back at their mom.

"Um...maman? It's just a stick," Matthew said confused as to why their mother was flipping over a stick. "What's so special about that? There are a bunch outside on trees and on the ground." Kaya laughed and stood up, facing the two. She twirled the wand in between her fingers.

"It's a stick," added Alfred, "What's so funny about it?" The mother knelt down by her two boys, ruffling their hair. "Mom?"

"This isn't just a stick boys," Kaya explained as she sat on the floor, crossing her legs together. "This is a nine inch pine that has the power to make anyone a hero." Alfred's eyes sparkled on the last word. "It can give power to those who have it… and set things on fire spontaneously, but I really don't want to get into that story..."

"It still looks like a stick," Matthew said, his expression still blank. Kaya stared blankly back at her oldest. "What?" Kaya stood up, holding her wand firmly in her hands.

"Watch." With a simple flick of her wrist, Kaya sent a series of red, yellow and orange sparks out the tip of her wand. Matthew's eyes lit up along with his brother's as the sparks faded into the air. "Betcha didn't know that your mom could do magic, huh?"

"Woah…" the twins said in awe.

"Yup." Kaya flipped her wand in the air before catching it in her hand. "Do you remember that job I got?" Matthew nodded while Alfred shook his head. Kaya laughed. "Your mama's gonna be teaching magic… well… sorta… I'm going to be getting my hands dirty. But, it's magic either way."

"But… if you're a...a…" started Matthew.

"A witch, sweetie." Matthew nodded and finished his sentence.

"A witch... Does that mean we can do magic too?" Kaya drew to a blank to the question. The boys father was a wizard… of sorts. He was a Squib, meaning he had the inability to do magic. Neither Matthew or Alfred had exhibited any magical ability by what she had observed. If the boys did have magic, she didn't know.

"Well… I really don't know…" she admitted.

"Aw. So we can't be cool heroes?" asked Alfred, disappointed. Kaya ran a hand through Alfred's blonde hair.

"There is a possibility you could be." Alfred tilted his head in confusion.

"What do you mean, Maman?" asked Matthew. Kaya chuckled.

"Well…" Kaya sat down on Alfred's bed and motioned for her boys to do the same. Alfred scrambled over to his mother's side. Matthew just walked over and sat down on her other side. "I'm a witch, and… your… father-" She said that part with disgust-" had magical blood, but couldn't do magic. We call those Squibs. I'll teach you more about them. After we finish unpacking, or at least halfway through."

"Yeah, but can we do the magic thing?" Alfred asked with impatience. "I wanna be a hero, just like you said!"

"Alfred, calm down," Matthew said to his brother. "I'm sure we can do magic."

"What makes you say that?"

"Do you remember that one time we were playing in the backyard?" Alfred nodded. "Do you remember how you were chasing me around?" Alfred nodded. "And I managed to get in that tree even though I couldn't climb it?" Alfred nodded again.

"Matthew… when did this happen?" Kaya asked.

"A few months ago. Why?"

"That's a form of magic sweetie."

"Oh…" Kaya smiled, ruffling Matthew's hair, causing him to laugh. "Does that mean I can do magic? Like you?"

"Pretty much…" Alfred groaned and flopped down on his bed, burying his face in a pillow. "What's wrong, Al?" Al grumbled something into the pillow. "I can't understand what you're saying." Alfred looked up at his mother.

"Mattie can do magic and be a hero, but I can't!" he said. "It's not fair!"

"Alfred. You might be able to do magic. All we have to do is wait for the letter."

"What letter?" Matthew asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, right, you don't know. If you get accepted into Hogwarts- which is the magic school I'm going to work at- you get an acceptance letter saying you got in and a list of supplies you'll need." she explained to her sons.

"When do we get it?" asked Alfred as he sat up. "I'm too excited to wait!"

"Calm down. You should be getting it soon. First years start at eleven." Kaya stood up. "Now you two boys unpack your things. I have to get the downstairs set up. And now that I have this-" She twirled her wand- "It'll get done a lot faster." She laughed before heading out the room and downstairs. The boys share a look before running down the stairs and watching their mother preform magic. "Don't you even think about it!"

"Think about what mom?" Alfred said innocently.

"You know what! Unpack your things!" Matthew sighed.

"Oui, Maman!" he said in French. Alfred tapped his twin on the shoulder, causing him to look at him.

"Matt," he said. "Your Canadian's showing." Matthew shook his head and headed over to one of the boxes by Alfred's bed.

"Sorry. We should get started on what Maman wants us to do." Alfred groaned. He walked over to the window and opened it. "Why'd you open the window?"

"Cause I can." Alfred walked over to Matthew. "What's in the box?"

"The toy soldiers Arthur gave you a few years ago." Matthew took one out of the box to show him. "Where do you want me to put them?"

"In the closet. In the back of the closet. Where no one can see them. Ever." Matthew raised an eyebrow, but put the box in the back of the closet, giving his brother a weird look.


Halfway through their work, an owl flew in through the window. Unfortunately, Matthew looked up as it flew in, and it hit him directly in the face. He went to the ground. Alfred stood over his brother with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Dude," said the American boy. "You have a bird on your face." Matthew picked up the owl and sat up, giving Alfred a look. "What?"

"Nothing," Matthew said with a sigh. He turned his attention towards the owl in his hands. It was slightly dazed, but seemed able to fly. As quickly as it had come, the bird flew back out the window. Matthew got up and closed it. "That was very... odd..."

"How?" said Alfred. "An owl just flew in through the window. I don't see how that's strange."

"It was an owl, Alfred."

"So?"

"Owls are nocturnal."

"What?" Matthew sighed.

"It means they only come out at night. And it's twelve o'clock in the afternoon."

"Oh." That was when the boys noticed that the nocturnal creature was carrying something in its talons- two letters to be exact- which were now laying on the floor. Alfred walked over and picked them up. The envelopes were very thick and were addressed in a bright green ink.

"Hey!" Alfred said. "They're for us!" Matthew hummed out of curiosity as Alfred handed him one of the letters. Matthew read the front quickly before flipping it over. He raised an eyebrow. The envelope was sealed with red wax. Looking over, he saw that Alfred's was the same. Alfred tore open the letter with a second thought and began to read it over rather quickly. So quickly, in fact, that Matthew couldn't understand what he was saying. Rolling his eyes, Matthew opened his own letter, allowing the envelope to drop to the floor. Now in his hands were two pieces of a thick paper. With a curious look, Matthew read them over.

"Dear Mr. Williams, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.-" Matthew didn't even get to finish before Alfred attacked him in his grip.

"You got accepted too?!" said the American. Matthew nodded before Alfred held out his own letter. It was identical to Matthew's, only it said "Jones" instead of "Williams". The boys exchanged a quick glance. A wide grin appeared on Alfred's face, and a small one on Matthew's.

"MOM!" both boys yelled as they ran down the stairs.


THE BEILSCHMIDT FAMILY

A young boy of age eleven sat under a tree, reading quietly. He was a little tall for his age, with slicked-back blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Most people said he resembled his father. Though, what that child didn't know was that his brother was silently sneaking up from behind him, to scare the living crap out of him.

His brother, despite being older by nine months, was very different from the rest of his family. He was twelve years old with short, silver hair with asymmetrical bangs that were swept over to the left, and piercing red eyes. He was also shorter than his older brother. Why this had happened was truly a mystery. All in all, most people found Gilbert Beilschmidt to be a total prick, even to his peers.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was rather aware of his brother's actions. This was a daily occurrence. In other words, how Gilbert greeted him every morning. With a sigh, Ludwig closed his book.

"Gilbert, I svear to God if you do vhat I think your about to do," he said in his German accent. "It will not end vell." Gilbert froze when he was only a few inches away and turned pale… well, paler than normal.

"How did you know it vas me?" Gilbert asked in his own German accent. Ludwig turned with his eyes narrowed.

"You do zhis every morning. I've pieced it together." The older brother grumbled something along the lines of "I don't do zhis every morning…" Ludwig rolled his eyes and stood up. "Vhat do you vant?"

"I can't spend any time vith my bruder vithout having a reason to?"

"Nien." Gilbert frowned, narrowing his eyes. They darted down to Ludwig's hands. In one quick movement, his hands wrapped around the book and tore it from his brother's grip. "Gilbert!" Gilbert smirked.

"Vhat? I can't know vhat you vere reading?"

"Give it back." Gilbert shook his head. He looked at the cover of the book. Soon, Gilbert snickered.

"Really?" He laughed under his breath again. "You're really reading this?"

"Gilbert." Ludwig held out his hand. "Give it back to me." Gilbert shook his head. He flipped to book around to show the cover to Ludwig. Written on the cover were the words: "To Kill A Mockingbird".

"Zhis is not meant for someone your age," Gilbert said. "Zhis is… like… four years above your age level. I expect zhe prick to be reading zhis."

"Und Roderich vas zhe one who gave it to me. Can I have it back?" Gilbert shook his head.

"Make me. As I recall, you can't do magic." Ludwig crossed his arms.

"Neizher can you. It's illegal." Gilbert's expression drew to a blank. Ludwig rolled his eyes and took the book back from Gilbert's hands. "Und after vhat you told me, ve don't know if I can do magic or not." Gilbert rolled his own eyes and waved his brother off.

"Ja, ja. I don't care. You don't have a letter, vhich means no proof!" Ludwig sighed. And that's why at that exact moment, an owl decided to fly out of nowhere and, unfortunately for the older of the two, it hit Gilbert in the face. "Ow! My awesome face!" Gilbert pushed the bird off of his face and stood up. "Am I bleeding?" Ludwig completely ignored his brother and looked at the bird, now on the ground. The bird flew away without and second thought. Ludwig looked on the ground where the bird had fallen, and noticed two letters that had been dropped onto the ground about a foot away. He went over to it and surprisingly, one of them had his name in it.

Gilbert leaned over his brother's shoulder. With a grin, he snatched the other letter.

"Kesesesese, zhey're letters from Hogvarts. Guess you can do magic after all bruder," Gilbert said with a smirk. He snatched the letter from his hands, also taking his own in the process. He ripped open his letter, muttering the list of supplies written on the official looking paper.

"Gilbert," said Ludwig. "Give me my letter." Gilbert shook his head.

"Nein, ve need to show zhis to Mutter und Vater zhese." He grabbed his brother's hand and dragged him inside of the house, screaming about the letter.


THE VARGAS FAMILY

A little Italian boy of age eleven sat across from his other siblings. He had short auburn hair that was parted in the middle and possessed a curl on the left side of his head, which refused to stay down. His eyes were a bright amber color.

Feliciano Vargas and his three siblings sat around at a small table in their living room. Each child staring shiftly at the others. Feliciano looked over and towards his twin.

His twin brother was only older by two hours, but Feliciano was at least taller than him by a centimeter. He had brown hair that was parted towards the right. Like his brother, has also had a long, wild curl that rested towards the right on his own part. His narrowed eyes were a piercing hazel. Lovino Vargas was a dangerous opponent when it came to this. Feliciano's eyes darted to his left, and towards his younger sister.

His sister was younger than him at age nine. Her long hair was auburn like his and pulled back into a ponytail by a blue ribbon. Her bangs were parted in the middle, but fell in front of her face, which annoyed her greatly. Her eyes were brown and matched the shade of dirt. Her curl stuck up from the right side of her head. Rosaria Vargas was a silent little girl, but she was almost as dangerous as Lovino in what they were doing. And lastly, Feliciano looked to his right at his younger brother.

His little brother was at the young age of eight years, but was still considered to be a bit of a flirt by the rest of the household. He had light brown hair that was parted to the left. His own hair curl was bent and angular for some reason and fell to the left, placed near his part. The boy's eyes were a bright green shade. Marcello Vargas had his eyes narrowed, as well as his tongue sticking out, in concentration as he readied to make his next move.

"Ready?" Lovino asked. Feliciano and Rosaria nodded while Marcello muttered a small "yes". Each of the Vargas siblings drew what they were about to play.

"Uno. Due. Tre!" all four said at once as they slapped their hands down on the table along with what they drew. After a few seconds, they removed their hands from the cards they had just put down. Yes, the children were just playing with a deck of cards. What else did you think they were doing?

Feliciano had drawn a six of hearts. Rosaria played a three of spades. Marcello had slid down a nine of clubs. Lovino, however, played the ace of diamonds. With a smirk, the eldest of the four reaped his reward, sweeping up all the cards that had been played.

"And that's why I am the most powerful out of all of us," Lovino stated as he slid that cards into his deck.

"I thought Feliciano was the one who more-" Marcello began before Lovino slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up." The four played a few more hands, until Rosaria tugged on Lovino's sleeve. Lovino glanced over at his sister.

"What?" He asked. She pointed over to the nearby window, which was open. Lovino raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand what you're saying." Rosaria pointed over to the window again. "What is it?" She kept pointing at the window. Lovino slammed his hand down on the table. "Rosaria, use your goddamn words!"

"She hasn't spoken in three years," Feliciano reminded him. "I don't think yelling at her will get her to speak any time soon."

"Well, she's pissing me off!" Feliciano covered Marcello's ears. "I can't understand a single thing she's trying to tell us!" Rosaria inched away from Lovino and pulled on Feliciano's sleeve. She pointed to the open window once again. Feliciano, unlike the rest of the household, understood what his sister meant in her own silent little language.

"She just wants to know why the window's open, Lovi."

"Don't call me Lovi."

"Why is the window open?" Marcello asked out of curiosity, taking Feliciano's hands away from his ears. Lovino turned his attention back to the cards in his hand.

"Nonno doesn't want the owl to hit the window like they always do," he said as he drew a card from his hand. "That's why." Marcello hummed a bit out of confusion.

"The letters were sent out today," Feliciano explained. "Which means Lovino and I will get ours."

"How do you know you have magic?" asked Marcello, seeing as how he has never noticed his brothers showing any sign of it. Feliciano laughed a little bit.

"Mama had magic, and so did Papa. And so do we. We all do." He smiled and layed down a card on the table. "I can't wait to get to school! We're going to be learning how to be strong and powerful! Just like Nonno is!" Lovino rolled his eyes as Marcello put down a card.

"You maybe," he muttered. "You're the favorite."

"Lovi, I'm not the-"

"Don't call me Lovi." Rosaria put down her card and swept up the lot.

"But you can be strong too. I know it."

"Name one of my strong suits." Feliciano drew to a blank as he placed a card down on the table. "Exactly."

"You work well with those tomato plants of yours," Feliciano finally said. Lovino narrowed his eyes, throwing a card on the table.

"You know what I meant." He sighed. "Nevermind. Your stupidity is going to get into my brain if we keep talking about this." Just as Rosaria laid down her card, something flew in through the window, striking Feliciano upside the head. He hit the floor, along with what hit him. Lovino smirked, laying down his cards. Marcello stood up and pulled his elder brother to his feet while Rosaria gathered up what hit him. Feliciano shook his head and blinked for a few seconds. Other than that, he seemed pretty unfazed by the sudden attack. Whatever had flown in wiggled its way out of Rosaria's arms and back out the window. Lovino got up and shut the window.

"That just made my day," he commented. Rosaria tugged on Feliciano's sleeve. "Whether an owl hits the glass, I don't care, the window stays shut." She tugged on his sleeve again. Lovino walked over and sat down where he was before. "Who's turn was it?" Rosaria pulled on Feliciano's sleeve for a third time.

"Mine!" Marcello exclaimed out of excitement. Rosaria tugged on Feliciano's sleeve once more. Marcello slammed a card down on the table. Feliciano swept them up. Rosaria gave up on trying to get the younger twin's attention, so she turned to Lovino and tugged on his sleeve. He looked down at the silent child.

"What is it this time?" Rosaria smiled upon seeing Lovino had listened her on the first try. She turned and shoved something into his hands. Looking down at his hands, he saw to official looking letters from Hogwarts. Lovino flipped on over, sliding it to his brother.

"Looks like we're going to school after all..." he said out loud before placing another card on the table. His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Feliciano smiled.

"Yay!" He cheered with excitement before tackling his twin. "We're going to Hogwarts!" Marcello laughed, and Rosaria smiled at their brother's happiness.

"FELICIANO! GET THE HELL OFF ME!"


THE NORDIC FAMILY

A tall man with wild, long blonde hair and eyes as blue as a gem stood at a stove, whistling while he worked. It was the quiet time of the day... which was very... strange...

Erik Oxenstierna stopped in what he was doing. It was quiet in his house. Too quiet. Some other households would find this to be normal, but with his children- and foster children- it was never quiet. This worried him.

"Barn!" He shouted in his Northern European accent, peeking his head out of the kitchen, "Hello~?" Silence. With a sigh, Erik turned off the stove and headed towards the staircase. Upstairs were the seven rooms his family shared. And that's where the seven children had shut themselves up in since this morning.

"Barn, you alive?" No answer. Erik jogged up the stairs. Before him stood eight doorways the lined the hall. Seven of these were bedrooms with the last one being a bathroom. Let's just say it now that mornings with just one bathroom for seven children was hell. He went up to the closest door and knocked, hoping to get an answer from at least one of his children. Still no answer, so he went onto the next door. On and on this went until the last door to the left. His foster son, Lukas's, room. Erik knocked on the door.

"Kids," he said. "What're you doing in there?" He heard a brief scramble from behind the door. Erik raised an eyebrow.

"The door's open," came a chorus of seven voices. Suspicious, he cautiously opened the door. All seven of his children were in there, acting completely natural. He wondered how they could be quiet for this long, without trying to tear each other's throats out. He blinked his eyes several times.

"You kids okay?" He asked.

"Yes, we're fine. " said one of the three eleven year olds in his own Norwegian accent. He had short, light blond hair with long bangs that fell to the left side of his face. The rest of his bangs were pinned off to the right side of his head with a Nordic Cross barrette. A detached hair curl floated independently beside his head. Why his curl did this, Erik had no clue. The boy had dull blue eyes. Lukas Bondevik was making sure those dull blue eyes were not making any eye contact with his foster father, and instead kept them on the book he had in his hands. That boy always had a book on hand.

"You all are being pretty quiet..." One of the children laughed nervously.

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." said the second eleven year old in his Danish accent. He had short, wild blond hair, black eyebrows, and blue eyes that were bright. Mathias Køhler was always trying to stay out of trouble, and this had to be one of those instances. Erik raised an eyebrow. It was obvious the young child was lying. All he needed to figure out is what he was lying about.

"What did you do?" He asked almost immediately. It had become a reflex with these seven to ask such a question. So far in the past month, due to their pranking, he had to call the fire department five times. And now they were on a first name basis.

Erik narrowed his eyes and turned to the eldest of the seven, and his oldest son.

Despite being only twelve years old, his son was considered to be taller than average. He had short, light blond hair with bangs that fell to the right. His greenish-blue eyes were obscured by the square glasses he had to wear. Berwald Oxenstierna was always the one who would tell his father the truth, even if it meant ratting out the others. The oldest didn't want to squeal on the others this time though, so he choose to keep silent. Erik muttered something under his breath about the bond the seven shared, even with most of them not being related. His gaze turned to the eleven year old next to Berwald.

The boy had short blond hair with bangs that fell to the right. He possessed violet eyes, and if Erik could describe him in one word, it would be cute. Tino Väinämöinen was, like nearly everyone else, avoiding Erik's gaze.

"Tino, want to tell me what you're up to?" He asked, hoping he would crack. Sadly, Tino shook his head and kept silent. The Northern European of a father was starting to get impatient. There were three suspects left. However, Erik came in sight with the open window at the end of the room.

"Why is the window open?" He asked, looking directly at it. No one said anything.

"The window is open because…" droned a ten year old boy in an Icelandic accent, as if he was trying to find a reason to explain the window. He had silver-white hair that was somewhat tousled. His eyes were an icy purple color. Emil Steilsson was the one closest to the window, and seemed to horrible at lying.

"Because it got really hot in here, and we thought the window would bring in some cool air! Yeah..." said the only girl of the seven children in an accent similar to Mathias's.

She was the same age as Emil was. The girl had medium length, light blonde hair with bangs that fell to the left side of her face. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds. She wore red gloves on her hands, which had on nearly twenty-four/seven. Hanna Køhler was exactly like her older brother, but could crack easily under pressure. Erik raised and eyebrow.

"Uh huh... Even though it's like, sixty-nine degrees in here and outside Hanna?" Erik said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Erland." The youngest of the seven looked up.

The boy in question was about seven years old. He had slightly-ruffled red hair and blue eyes. He almost always had a streak of paint on his face, extending from his right cheek to his nose. No matter how many times it was removed, the paint would always come back to his face. Erland Oxenstierna was most likely the one to rat out the others for anything wrong they did.

The boy was about to say something when Mathias covered his mouth, preventing him.

"Mathias…" Erik said with his eyes narrowed. Normally, he was the "cool" dad. He was the parent that everyone loved. But when he had to put his foot down, it wasn't pretty. "Why is the window open?" Luckily, no one had to answer since an owl flew into the room carrying four letters, landed on Erik's shoulder. The bird dropped the letters into his hand before flying back out of the window. As it did this, the owl bumped into Mathias, and then flew straight out the window. Lukas leaned over and slammed the window shut.

Erik looked down at the letters in his hand. A smile came to his face as he began to laugh. All the kids stared at him as he did so.

"You could have told me you were waiting for the owl," he said, in between laughs. He held the letters out in front of him. "Berwald's letter with this year's supplies." He threw it to his son, who caught it without batting an eye. Erik sorted through the other letters met for the upcoming first year students.

"Lukas Bondevik," he read aloud. Erik tossed the letter to the Norwegian, who caught it in both hands. "Mathias Køhler." Mathias caught his letter in between two fingers. Surprisingly, he didn't cut himself on the envelope. "And Tino Väinämöinen…?" Erik handed the letter to Tino, who was sitting not too far away from him. "And I thought you were a muggle…" Erik rolled his eyes a bit with a grin. "Guess I'll be taking three more of you with me this year." Mathias cheered and fell backwards off the chair he was sitting in, landing with a thud on the floor. Hanna grabbed her brother by the shoulders and pulled him back up.

"Stupid Dane…" Lukas muttered. Erik sighed.

"Alright, guys. Lunch is almost ready." He headed out the door. "Hurry up! I know none of you want to be last!" On the last word, all seven of the children shot up and ran down stairs. Erik laughed before following them.


THE HONDA-WANG FAMILY

A young, Japanese boy sat in his bedroom. He was short and slim for his age, which was eleven. He had straight black hair with bangs that fell straight on his forehead. His eyes were dull, and a dark brown color. Kiku Honda sat at his desk, working on a small drawing that he had been doing since the summer began. It was quiet, and that was the way he liked it. It also explained why he spent so much time in his bedroom.

Unlike the rest of his family, Kiku preferred to be away from everyone else and in, what his mother called, his isolation.

"Kiku!" called his mother from outside of his room. "Can you come down here? Lunch is ready!" The young boy sighed, setting his pencil down on his desk. Kiku slowly walked out of his room and down the stairs.

He stood in the dining room, looking at the rest of his family in front of him. Two brothers and his mother. Kiku took his place across from his two brothers. Well, they weren't really his brothers. His mother had adopted them out of pure kindness. The eldest of the two- and the oldest overall- had found Kiku out in the woods when he was little. Kiku and his mother had just moved to London from Japan. His mother had been grateful, and asked where the boy's parents were. The older child had responded that they had died after a car accident in which only he and his younger sibling survived. His mother, with her kind heart, took the two in. And now, Kiku had two siblings of his own- one younger and one older. Though, he does have another sibling, but nobody really spoke about her, or Kiku's father. It was a rather depressing story, and no one liked to talk about it.

Kiku's mother placed down a plate in front of him. Kiku looked up at her. His mother was a beautiful and kind-hearted woman. She had long brown hair the was tied back with a ribbon and brown eyes. And she loved all three of her children immensely. Hey, something had to be an outlet for all that love.

"Arigatō…" He thanked his mother, before eating his lunch. Kiku looked up to see his older brother staring at him.

Kiku's brother was a year older than him, and a different nationality as well. He was Chinese. The boy dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail and brown eyes. Yao Wang was smiling at Kiku. The Japanese boy hummed a small, confused response.

"It's nice to see you out of your room, aru," said Yao, using the verbal tic of his at the end of the sentence with his Mandarin accent. "You haven't been out all day."

"I see no reason for me to be out of my room," said Kiku before continuing eating. "There's nothing to drive my interest."

"You shouldn't be in there all day, aru. It's not good for you."

"I'd rather stay in there than be out here." Yao frowned a tad at this, but quickly went back to his food, before his feelings could be farther injured by his brother. Kiku didn't notice this, despite having the canny ability to read the atmosphere.

Kiku's mother looked out the window. Her youngest boy tugged on her skirt, despite the fact he was ten years old. The boy had choppy dark brown hair that comes down to his jaw and light brown eyes. Leon Wang was trying to get his mother's attention. She looked down at him.

"What are you doing, Mama?" he asked with an accent like Yao's. She smiled and laughed.

"Just waiting for Yao's letter, Leon," she answered. Kiku sighed. Unlike him, Yao wasn't normal. Leon wasn't either. Both of his brothers were wizards, meaning they could do magic. Kiku was normal. Just a normal human being like his mother. Suddenly, everyone was interrupted by an owl flying in the window, smacking Kiku's mother in the face. Both Kiku and Yao shot up out of their seats.

"Hahaue. Are you ok?" Kiku asked as he and Yao ran up to their mother and helped her up. She laughed.

"I'm fine, Kiku," she said with a smile. "Don't worry." She held up the letter that had fallen on the floor. "Yao, this is for you." Yao took the letter in his hand as the owl flew off. Kiku turned to walk back into his room. There was no need to be out of it anymore.

"Mama," Kiku heard Yao say. There was a rustling of paper when Kiku was halfway towards the staircase. Then, his mother wrapped her arms around her son rather tightly.

"Hahaue?" Kiku was shocked by this sudden display of affection. His mother buried her face into her son's hair.

"Koibito, this...also came for you..." she said as she handed him a letter. Kiku looked down at it for a second with a blank look. It was a thick envelope with green writing. His name was clearly written on it. Yao held a similar letter in his hand now. Kiku's mother wrapped her arms tightly around her son again. "My son's a wizard!"


THE KIEVAN RUS FAMILY

A young, eleven year old boy sat with his sister. He was tall for his age and was very pale. He has a round, childish face with a prominent and distinctive nose. His hair is slightly wavy and a shade of beige with bagns that fell to the left. His eyes were violet. The boy also had a light tan scarf around his neck. Ivan Braginsky ran a hand through his younger sister's hair as she laid her head in his lap.

While the family lived in a small home, it was perfect to them. Of course, Ivan's father wasn't a rich man. But he made it work for his children. This included working overtime, leaving Ivan's older sister to take care of them.

Ivan's older sister was the kindest person he knew, despite the fact that she was just almost twelve years old. She had a round and youthful face, just like he did. Her blonde hair was rather long, but was tied back in a plait she twisted into a bun. Her eyes were teal, and reminded Ivan of the sea. Katyusha Braginskaya was not always around to take care of her siblings, but when she could, she put every ounce of her heart into it. Right now, she was making them lunch, since their father was away at work. Ivan's younger sister sat up, and placed her head down on the table.

"Siastra," said the girl. She didn't need to say anymore. Katyusha knew what she wanted. Ivan ran a hand through his younger sister's hair.

This child was almost ten years old, and Ivan found her to be a bit weird at times. He still loved her though. She had platinum blonde hair that was short and ragged at the ends. This came from a failed attempt she had at cutting her own hair. Her eyes were a dark blue. Natalia Arlovskaya wanted to eat.

"Please be patient, Natalia," said Katyusha in her Slavic accent to which all three siblings shared. "It's almost done." Natalia sat back and crossed her arms. As she said, Katyusha was soon finished with her chore. She walked over, putting the food down in front of the two. Natalia began to eat as Katyusha sat down. Ivan, however, didn't touch his food. Katyusha looked up at him.

"Aren't you hungry brother?" she asked. Ivan shook his head, pushing the plate forward.

"Nyet, sestra," said Ivan. "I'm fine…"

"Please, Ivan." He shook his head once again.

"Nyet, you have it. I'm not hungry." Though, the noise his stomach made at the end of his statement begged to differ. Katyusha smiled as the boy began to eat the food.

"I don't need it brother dear, you do. You're going to grow up to be tall and strong one day. I know it." Ivan smiled a bit. The time he spent with his sisters were bliss. They were the only people he could rely on.

Suddenly the door opened. In walked their father. He was a young-looking man with messy pale blonde hair and blue eyes. The man was said to be rather tall. He was thin for his age, some would say a little too thin, but his smile didn't wary from it. Natalia ran up to her father as soon as the door shut, engulfing him in a hug. He smiled down at her and picked her up before walking back to the other two children.

"Zdravstvuyte, Papa," said Katyusha as her father took a place stand beside her. He bent down and kissed her head. "You're home early. Is everything alright?" Her father hesitated before nodding his head and plastering a smile on his face.

"I'm fine, Katyusha. Don't worry about me." Kievan put his daughter down next to him, looking across towards his son. "Privet, Ivan."

"Privet, Papa," Ivan replied.

"Ivan, I need to talk to you for a minute, alright?" The boy nodded and followed his father out of the room. Kievan led his son out of an earshot of his sisters. He knelt down in front of Ivan with a serious look on his face.

"You got fired from your job," Ivan stated simply. Kievan nodded. Ivan sighed. This was the fifth job to fire him, simply because they couldn't afford to keep him anymore. Last hired, first fired. The small family couldn't seem to catch a break. Not to mention that Kievan's name had become a household name as of a few years ago.

"Most people don't want someone like me on their payroll, I guess."He laughed a little bit before returning to his previous expression. "Ivan, let me see." The Russian child shook his head. "I need to see how well it's healing. Please? Pozhaluysta?" Ivan did as he was told. His hands worked around the scarf he kept on him constantly. He held it tightly in his hands. Ivan exposed his neck out to his father.

It wasn't normal for a boy his age to look like this. Ivan's neck was a mess of scabbed over cuts and stitches. A vivid memory flashed through the boy's mind of the night he received them. It's wasn't a good memory. The blade… The blood… The sirens… His father's and sisters' voices…

Ivan was snapped back to reality by his father lifting his head upwards. He winced a little. These cuts weren't exactly fully healed. Kievan clicked his tongue.

"You're healing pretty well," he said. He lowered Ivan's head and knelt down to his level. "I should be able to cut out the stitches in a few weeks. Hopefully before you start school." Ivan smiled slightly at the thought of no one having to know he had gotten stitches, unless they saw his scars. Though, that would be impossible because of his scarf he always wore that Katyusha made him when he was young. It had served him well in these past few days. Covering up what had happened. Making him forget.

Ivan wrapped the scarf back around his neck before he and his father walked back into the main room. Just as he sat at the table, an owl flew into the room, landing on the table. It shook, shedding it's feathers everywhere.

"And I've just lost my appetite…" said the Russian boy. The owl dropped two letters that it held in its beak into Kievan's hand. The Slavic man patted the bird's head before it flew back out the window. He sorted through the letters before dropping them down on the table.

"You, my dear," said the man, placing a hand on Katyusha's shoulder, "are going back for another year." He then turned to his son, holding the other letter. "And you this year, Ivan." He ran a hand through his son's hair. This year would be the year that things would change. Ivan knew that it would be. Things would get better. For everyone.


Your owl is an idiot.

No! Pudding is not an idiot! She's still in training...

Sure. Whatever. But I highly doubt that there is an owl flight school.

There isn't!

Then you have fun training her. Anyway, aren't we supposed to be doing the introduction...?

Oh. Right yes. Hello people of this world! Fanfiction world...? Sorry. I've had sugar today.

Ignore her. She likes to send an owl into people's faces.

It's not my fault!

Okay! Jeez... Anyway... We're back and better than ever! Or at least we hope to be.

We actually have plans this time.

We do, my sister. We do. If you have any questions about this story or characters you might not understand, feel free to PM me.

You can't PM me. The story is on Kitten's account. And review also!

You don't have to review if you don't want to. That's just Angel being... Angel. As I was saying, this story will be the first in a series we hope to do... if you'll let us.

Danger and adventure around every corner! And a few foreign students caught up in their own crazy antics.

And don't worry, any person we missed will be introduced next time... you know... possibly.

And now, I believe my sister and I are both proud to say...

Next time on Hogwarts From Around the World!: The Year It All Began!

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley!

We'll see you then!