"Don't you have any friends, Hugo?"
"Of course I do," my 13-year-old little brother said indignantly. His bright red hair, so much like mine, spilled out over his forehead and ears, making his face look too small for his body. His maturing voice, though, forced me to remember that he wasn't a little kid anymore.
"Then why don't you go sit with them?" Really, it was annoying to have him hanging onto me wherever I went, as it had been during the summers and his last two years at Hogwarts. Not this year, though. I wasn't putting up with it again.
"Fine," he snapped, folding his arms and turning around. He was always so sensitive. "I didn't want to sit with you guys anyways."
"Sure you didn't," Albus grinned, swiping out his hand and ruffling Hugo's overlong hair. He ducked out of the way disgustedly, hurrying along the corridor. Albus turned to me, asking, "Where d'you think they are?"
"Probably right in the middle," I sighed. Having popular friends tended to put you in the thick of things, especially when they went out of their way to get attention. I myself would be perfectly content with a solitary compartment, out of the way of the rest of the student body. Our friends, however, felt differently.
"Probably," he agreed, pushing past a group of Ravenclaw fourth-years blocking the way. One of them, a short girl with brown ringlets, spotted the shiny badge on his chest and rolled her eyes pointedly at her friends. Albus scowled at her as we passed, the back of his neck that wasn't covered by messy black hair flushing angrily. "Just 'cause my dad's famous," he muttered, "doesn't mean I can't be Prefect."
"Just ignore them," I huffed, knowing full well that I had worn out that expression years ago. Al and I had been ignoring people since our first year, and they still continued to gossip. About me, not so much, but what with Albus being Harry Potter's son, he got a lot of attitude, especially when people thought he was receiving so-called special treatment. The truth was, Albus was a good student and friend, someone who I was sure would have been quite popular even without having someone famous (the most famous person of our time, actually) as his father. I thought he was a good choice for Gryffindor Prefect, maybe even Head Boy.
He stopped suddenly in front of me and I almost ran into him as he slid open the compartment door, laughter reaching us from inside.
"About time!" Mika exclaimed as we walked in. "Where have you been?"
"Prefects' meeting," Albus said, his voice still tinted with anger as he threw himself down on the seat next to Trevor. I closed the door and sat down across from them, next to the window. Leslie turned to me, smiling brightly.
"Hey! Guess who I just got?" She held up a chocolate frog card. I shrugged. "Your dad!" she laughed, showing it to me. "How cool is that?"
"Sort of weird, actually," I said, wrinkling my nose. She rolled her eyes.
"So, Prefects, huh?" Mika spoke, leaning forward in her seat, indicating Albus and I with her large dark eyes. "What's that like?"
Al snorted in disgust. "It depends on who you're related to."
I sighed as Mika raised her eyebrows. "A group of fourth years were giving him some crap over in the next car," I explained.
"Giving him crap or just looking at him?" she asked skeptically.
"Just looking at him."
"It's none of their business," Albus grumbled. "They could just leave me alone for once."
Mika and Les exchanged a look but didn't say anything. I couldn't pretend I knew what it was like to be Albus, but I did think he took some things a little too seriously. I looked over my cousin, trying to sympathize. I'd known him my whole life, probably knew him better than anyone else. He didn't sulk a whole lot; he would be fine within a few minutes.
"What about you, Rose?" Leslie asked. Les was the most popular girl in our entire year, and marginally the best-looking. She had wavy blond hair that flowed over her shoulders and slender, emerald-green eyes. She and Mika, a black girl with a pixie cut, spent every second together, gossiping and giggling. I wasn't sure if I had anything in common with either of them, but we'd met in our first-term Herbology class and I'd stuck with them ever since.
"Well, everyone knew Rose was going to be a prefect," said Trevor, grinning at me. I grinned back, not so much about his comment, but because it was near impossible for me to look Trevor in the face without smiling at him. He was my best friend out of everyone, including Albus, and I'd also been 'totally into him for the past, like, two years,' according to Mika. It was true that I liked him, but I didn't want to mess up our friendship by trying to date him. When I'd told Mika and Leslie that, they'd both rolled their eyes.
"You couldn't have known I'd be Prefect," I sighed. I was an extremely good student, though I didn't flaunt it, nor did I appreciate my friends expecting it of me. True, I also thought I'd be prefect, though I wasn't sure how happy I was with that. It put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders, responsibility I really didn't want. My parents had been absolutely thrilled, of course—well, Mum, mostly—since they had been the Gryffindor Prefects during their time at Hogwarts. Before they went and got themselves famous.
"Of course I knew," Trevor said, feigning offense. "I am in Divination, after all—"
"Oh please," I scoffed. "Does that even count as a class?" I kneeled up on my seat, reaching into my already-stowed suitcase and digging around for my Mum's copy of Hogwarts, a History. I had a feeling I'd need something to read sooner or later. I pulled out the thick volume, settling down in my seat again and setting it on my knees just as Lauren Wolfe, a fellow Gryffindor, walked in, looking for Leslie. I drew myself away from the conversation, leaning against the rattling window with my legs scrunched up on the seat in front of me, propping the book open in my lap.
Trevor slid over to the window, too, so he was sitting across from me. "Good summer?" he asked.
"It was too long," I said wistfully. He shook his head, brown hair cropped shorter than it had been the last time I'd seen him—at the end of the last school year.
"Only you," he said, smiling slightly. "Only you could complain about the holiday being too long."
I frowned. "I missed school. And my friends. Cousins can get annoying, you know?"
"I heard that," Albus growled. Trevor and I grinned.
"Sorry I didn't write much," he said apologetically. "We were in France."
"That's fine," I shrugged. "I knew you'd be gone." I turned my attention to my book for a moment, skimming through a few paragraphs before speaking again. "You trying out for Quidditch this year?"
I had meant it as a half-joke; Trevor loved Quidditch, and of course he would be trying out, unless the captain just picked him without needing to see him try out first. He was really an excellent flier. But his loud shout of laughter surprised me. I looked up to see him tapping a badge on his chest similar to my own. "I'm Team Captain, Rose," he said, smiling broadly. "So I'm pretty sure I'll be playing Quidditch this year."
"I hadn't even noticed. Congratulations," I said, glad that I was able to inject some excitement into my words. "Bet James won't be too happy about that," I added with a hint of disgust in my voice. It was no secret that I disapproved of Al's cocky older brother.
"He's not," said Albus, turning to us. "He really wanted that badge, and when his Hogwarts letter came without it…Trust me, you're glad you weren't there."
"Do me a favor and cut him from the team?" I pleaded Trevor.
"Unless you want to end up at the bottom of the lake, I suggest you not do that," Albus said, rolling his eyes. "He'll kill you."
"I don't doubt it," I muttered under my breath as Trevor responded, "If he's as good as he was last year then there's no way I'm cutting him." After a moment, he suggested, "You should try out, Al."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Nope. Dad wants me to, of course, but it's not really my thing. I'll leave that one to James."
"Not really your thing?" Trevor said incredulously. "You follow the World Cup as closely as your brother—"
"But I don't play it," Albus cut across him. "I'm not even that good."
"Yes you are, I saw you play that one time during the summer—"
"That was Second Year, Trevor."
I rolled my eyes. Quidditch. I didn't see what all the fuss was about. Plus, Trevor and Al had this conversation at the start of every single year. Two best friends who were also the two most popular guys; it was easy to guess what they talked about most. I propped up my book and continued reading.
I guess it was easy to explain how I was friends with the four other people in our compartment—well, not including Lauren; I didn't know her very well. Al and I were cousins, so naturally we had hung out a lot in our first year, each being the only person that the other knew. Albus met up with Trevor and I became friends with Mika and Leslie, and we had all sort of been drawn together. We were extremely close, but I was fading from the other girls a bit. I knew that was common as people got older, though it was still sort of sad to see it happening. During the year I got a little too caught up in my studies, and apparently 'didn't have much of a social life.' Again, according to Mika.
I'd read Hogwarts, a History exactly four times: once each school year. So starting it for the fifth time, it was seriously losing its interest. But Lauren, Les, and Mika were gossiping about some new boy from Durmstrang and Albus and Trevor were arguing about Quidditch, so I figured I would need something to do for the next half hour or so. I carefully marked my page (somewhere near fifty already) and set it down on my seat, standing up. "Lunch trolley," I said in explanation to the questioning glances.
"We've got plenty here," Les pouted, gesturing to the diminishing pile of sweets on the seat next to her.
"No, I'll go get my own. I don't really like Chocolate Frogs anyway," I said, stepping carefully around the pairs of feet in the middle of the compartment and heading out the door, sliding it closed behind me.
There weren't
many people out of their rooms, so the halls were cleared. I walked
past the numerous compartments on one side and the evenly spaced
windows on the other, exposing the scenery of fields and rolling
green hills. I sighted lightly. Every year the same, but still
enjoyable.
I found the lunch cart at the front of the train with a
short line. The aging woman with a wide smile and frizzy gray hair
who was running the trolley looked at me questioningly. "Two
cauldron cakes, please," I said. She smiled warmly and bent down to
retrieve my request. I waited patiently, digging in the pockets of my
Muggle jeans, searching for money. I acquired two sickles when the
car door slid open and I heard loping footsteps come up behind me.
"Weasley," a voice sneered. I stiffened. Not already, I thought. We hadn't even reached the school yet.
"Malfoy," I replied coldly.
He reached his arm around me, snatching a few pumpkin pasties off the cart. "How's your boyrfriend?" he asked. I felt color rise up the back of my neck, covered by my bright red Weasley hair.
"I don't have a boyfriend," I snarled. As he very well knew. The smiling witch handed me my cauldron cakes and I passed over the money.
"Oh right. I forgot Stilles doesn't like you back."
"Shut up," I snapped. How did he know I liked Trevor? Was I really that obvious?
The woman's kind look was replaced by one of disapproval. "Now, now," she scolded. "No sense getting in fights. Term hasn't even started yet."
He rolled his gray eyes, tossing her some money. She fumbled with it irritably, trying to count it. "Well, give him and Potter a kick from me," he said, stalking back out of the car, silver-blond hair shining in the sunlight filtering through the windows. I glared at the back of his head as he retreated. If there was one person Trevor and Al really held a grudge against, it was Scorpius Malfoy. I didn't like him, either, but didn't hate him quite as much as they did.
Don't get too friendly with him, Rosie.
Dad had told me enough tales of Malfoy's father to set me against him before I even set foot in Hogwarts, though I had tried not to let that rule my judging of his character too much. But in this case, it seemed the book was extremely similar to its cover. He could be as charming as his looks and just as vile and repugnant at the same time. To me, he was the perfect stereotype of a Slytherin. Which was reason enough to stay away from him.
"Sorry," I muttered to the witch, but she didn't seem to think much of my apology. I sighed again, but with a sort of resignation this time, and traced Scorpius's trail out of the car. Luckily, he wasn't still in the hallway beyond, though I could see a pair of Ravenclaws snogging through a compartment window. I rolled my eyes disgustedly, walking past swiftly. Really, would it kill them to lower the blinds?
I reached my compartment a few moments later just as Lauren was stepping out. "Hi," I said politely. She smiled at me. "Hey, Rose. Good summer?"
I didn't want to get into the whole follow-up conversation for my 'it-was-too-long' response, so I simply shrugged and said, "Pretty good. You?"
"Good," she responded, sliding past me. I strode through the open door and resumed my place at the window.
"What took you so long?" Leslie asked curiously. I was surprised she had even realized how long I had been gone, what with being distracted by the gossip of the new Durmstrang guy.
"Ran into Malfoy," I said, opening my book and hoping the topic would not be pursued. I was disappointed.
"Malfoy? What was he on about?" asked Trevor at once. I kept my eyes on the page, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was still slightly flushed about what Scorpius had said. I was spared the dilemma of answering as the others spoke up, too.
"He wasn't named Slytherin Prefect, was he?" Albus said anxiously.
Leslie sighed. "I don't see why you guys make such a fuss over him. He's not even good-looking." Mika snorted disbelievingly.
"Yeah, and neither is James Potter," she said sarcastically. Albus smacked himself on the forehead. I chose to answer his question instead.
"I didn't notice if he had a badge or not. I didn't think to check."
"He wasn't bragging about it?"
"Malfoy doesn't seem the type to brag about becoming a prefect," I said, turning the page idly. I kept my gaze trained on Hogwarts, a History, but I was certain Albus rolled his eyes.
"Malfoy is the type to brag about anything, cuz." My eyes narrowed as he used the short form of the word cousin, which is how James referred to me.
"He wasn't giving you trouble, was he?" Trevor asked.
"Just the usual," I replied. "Nothing horrible."
Trevor fell back on his chair, head tilted towards the lamps swinging on the ceiling, looking at nothing particular. "God I hope he doesn't make the Quidditch Team this year," he muttered. "I hate to admit it, but James still isn't quite up to his standards."
"He even plays Quidditch," Mika sighed. "He'd be perfect if he wasn't such a prat."
"And if he wasn't in Slytherin," supplied Leslie.
Trevor glanced at the two now-grinning girls in disbelief. "You two really scare me." I tried to hide my smile, burying myself in my book once more.
