She was possibly the most odd creature he had ever laid eyes on. Dark leggings made their way up to a pair of jean shorts, yellow and black striped suspenders looped over her small shoulders and a shock of soft grey-lavender hair fell in short crops around her face. Her hair crinkled a little bit, as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to be straight or curl. Hazel eyes were bright as laughter slipped from her lips, a friend looping an arm through hers. Quentin watched as the more normal-looking girl skipped, trying to drag the lavender-haired girl with her, who was falling into a fit of giggles…right towards a solid, brick barrier. He had been given instructions, but still, his hand reached out and a warning began to tumble from his lips, but then the two girls vanished through the barrier. Quentin glimpsed around, wondering if any n-maj's had noticed. His hand went to his dark hair, ruffling the thick strands that just sort of flopped all over the place. He had to get through that barrier; glimpsing at the watch upon his wrist, he knew he only had five more minutes. Glimpsing around with worried eyes, he took a deep breath and finally placed one foot in front of the other, his hands pushing against his trolley. He swallowed, but refused to wince or cringe as the barrier came closer and closer….

Steam billowed up all around the place and voices clammered over one another to be heard. Students were hugging their families while mothers fussed. Owls screeched and hooted while cats mewed and darted every which place; a young boy was trying desperately to hold onto his rat who kept trying to bite his finger. It was all almost too much – too much activity at once. Quentin swallowed and as he approached the train, he left his trolley where it was and heaved his trunk off of it. Just as he was getting ready to drag the trunk up the steps, a giggle reached his ears.

"A bit heavy to carry isn't it? Why not use your wand?"

He glimpsed up to see the Lavender Girl, as he began to mentally call her. She had a slightly shy expression, but excitement lit her hazel eyes bright and amusement tweaked the corners of her mouth into a small smile, which looked like she was trying to fight.

"Uhm," he stammered out beautifully. "I mean…we're not allowed…" He stopped when her brows furrowed and her head tilted slightly.

"You're…American? You're a transfer?" she asked.

"Ah, yes. From Ilvermorny," Quentin supplied. Lavender Girl smiled once more and shook her head. She drew a wand out from what looked like her back pocket and gave it a flourish towards his trunk, which promptly levitated.

"Come on. Let's get out of the way before someone shoves us down the bloody steps," she said, rolling her eyes, her wand directing Quentin's trunk in front of her. A few students moved while others tried to duck around them on the train's narrow hallway.

"You can sit with us you want? My friend and I?" Lavender Girl offered, glimpsing over her shoulder. She stumbled in her distraction, tripping over absolutely nothing. A flush rose to her cheeks and she quickly turned around. Quentin turned his face to the crook of his arm and pretended to couch in order to cover up his laugh. "Yeah, sure." All the British accents tumbled around him, blurring and yelling and murmuring. Everyone seemed excited to go back to school, it seemed; it was similar to Ilvermorny, but this seemed…more.

Lavender Girl stopped at a compartment and tapped the door with her foot. It promptly flew open and the girl Quentin had seen Lavender Girl with earlier poked her head out.

"Did you get it?" she asked, and then noticed him. Her face fell slightly, but more in exasperation. "You brought a stray instead. Fine." Lavender Girl wrinkled her nose at her friend and turned to give Quentin a slightly apologetic look.

"And yes, she's always this cranky. This is Annalee," Lavender Girl introduced as she gave her wand another delicate flourish: the trunk lifted even higher and made its way into the luggage racks overhead. She then sat down across from Annalee.

"You could have at least seen what they had on the trolley while you were out there," Annalle grumbled. Lavender Girl leaned towards Quentin and lifted a hand to her mouth and stage-whispered, "She's even more of a crank when she's hungry." A squeak proceeded to fall from her lips as Annalee reached a long leg out to kick Lavender Girl's shorter one. Only two weeks in England and Quentin was meeting the strangest of peoples. He had been completely overwhelmed upon entering Diagon Alley. Essentially, he knew he was dealing with culture shock. Apparently here, no-maj's were called 'muggles'. And, it was still so strange having his wand on him at all times, whereas at his previous school they handed them over before leaving. Though, there were some student who tried to sneak theirs off.

"So, you look to be about our year but I've never seen you before," Annalee stated, pulling Quentin from his thoughts. He gave his head a small, mental shake before blinking once and coming back to the present.

"Ah, yes," he murmured. "I'm from the United States. New York, actually. I went to Ilvermorny." Both girls blinked at him and Lavender Girl propped a dainty elbow upon a skinny knee and plopped her chin right into the palm of her hand as she looked at him. For living in New York, one would think that Quentin would have been used to seeing such specimens, but there was something about Lavender Girl that just took him off guard. Maybe it was because New Yorkers could just be so…overdone. There were people, of course, who could pull off different hair colors and styles, the odd bit of clothing. But…with Lavender Girl… nothing went but at the same time everything went together perfectly. Her suspenders did not match her hair, her bright teal shoes did not match a single thing she wore, but it all seemed a part of her.

"So…why did you come here?" Annalee drilled out next. A slap on the window made all three of them jump and Quentin blinked rapidly as he noticed Lavender Girl's hair…change. It turned a very bright purple and he watched as a bit of heat rose to her cheeks and she then crawled over the bench-seat to the window, stood, and dropped it down so that she could hang out of it. The train was beginning to move, but a tall boy grinned at her as she stuck her tongue out and yelled something, flailing an arm so that her fingers just barely swiped over the guy's head. Annalee waggled her fingers at the guy who gave her a flirtatious wink and Quentin glanced away. When Lavender Girl returned to her seat, her hair was back to its normal – well, normal for her – color, and her eyes were once again bright as ever. She gave Quentin another apologetic smile.

"My brother. He likes to see my off. He's an auror," she explained. It was obvious how much she adored the man – her face had changed for just a moment. Lavender Girl flapped her hands, making Quentin lean back slightly with a chuckle. "Back to Annalee's question. Why here?" Once again, Lavender Girl resumed her previous position of her elbow-knee-chin-hand propping. Quentin shook his head slightly and he saw Annalee smirk; he shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Well…It's sort of a long story. I'm living with my aunt here. She's my mother's sister." In truth, Quentin didn't want to tell why he had been forced to come to England: that his parents were going through a divorce, that they didn't think it was safe for him to be there in America. It was all bullshit, and he had said so, but it didn't make a difference: he was sixteen, and therefore, underage. Both girls blinked at him, waiting for more and he couldn't help but sigh and roll his eyes in exasperation.

"That's all," he said simply. Lavender Girl shrugged her shoulder and Annalee opened her mouth to say something, but just then, something rattled outside and her eyes popped wide. Without a word, she clambered messily around Lavender Girl and Quentin and threw open the door to the compartment.

"Food!" she cried dramatically, fishing a few coins from her pocket. Lavender Girl covered her mouth with a hand and giggled. She stood, too, but was more polite and careful about making her way over. Quentin tucked his legs in close to the bench to give her room. Not that she needed it, really, though: she was tiny. In fact, at first glimpse, he had thought her a third year. Both girls retreated, Annalee with her arms full and Lavender Girl with a couple of chocolat frogs and licorice wands. She also had a sugar quill it looked like. Unwrapping it, she popped the quill between her lips and her hair turned a softer purple. Quentin watched in amazement. Annalee, spotting him, grinned before popping a chocolate frog into her mouth and ripping the leg off.

"Oh, you didn't know? Clara's an metamorphmagus. I guess you wouldn't, though… being new and all. Sorry," Annalee stated. Clara glimpsed up, the quill still between her lips, her eyes going wide slightly. A small blush colored her cheeks pink, her hair brightening even more. She shot Annalee a dirty look and the other girl just smiled and shrugged once more.

"Okay… soooo. What year are you in? Clara and I are going to be in sixth. She's a hufflepuff and I'm a Slytherin," she informed Quentin. He chuckled softly and shook his head as Lavender Girl – Clara – offered him one of her own Chocolate Frogs. He wasn't much on sweets.

"I've read up on the houses. Back at Ilvermorny, I was in Thunderbird which favors adventure and free spirit. So I wonder what House I'll be in at Hogwarts…I'm going into my sixth year as well," he said. Slytherin were those who were cunning…He could definitely see it in Annalee. And Hufflepuffs… they were loyal and honest, hardworkers…Quentin still couldn't get past the changing hair. He opened his mouth to ask about it and then shut it again. Annalee, never one to seem to miss much, smirked, and made some sort of gesture with her shoulders. Clara looked from the two and then back at Quentin, her bright eyes blinking.

"Annalee says you have a question, but she's too busy eating to actually talk," she said with a giggle, pulling her sugar quill from her lips.

"Is your hair the only thing that changes?" he asked. Clara blushed again and he instantly felt bad, but et another soft giggle slipped from her lips. She took a small breath and her brows furrowed slightly. Her skin began to change colors, to a soft green and Quentin blanched. It then turned purple and then blue. Clara lifted her hands and her fingernails turned to claws as her hair became shaggier. In a matter of seconds, she looked part-wolf and a pair of ears had sprouted from her hair which was now a dark brownish-grey. Then the ears turned to points and her eyes turned green, her skin grey with fluffy hair protruding. A cat. With a small breath, the appearance seemed to fade and Clara was back to normal.

"So…the purple hair…?" Quentin asked next. Clara smiled.

"All natural," she said. His eyes popped wide and she giggled. "It's the only thing I can't control. It turns colors according to my mood or mental state. Sometimes my eyes do, too, but that's only if my emotions are really intense."

"That's…amazing," Quentin said.

The train ride had been…educational. Quentin decided he rather liked talking with Lavender Girl and Annalee was a little…much. She was loud and liked to have her opinion heard. When a first ran from his friends and tried to hide in their compartment, Annalee drew out her wand and uttered a spell that hung him in midair from his ankle, opened the door, and plopped him right back outside. Clara had chided Annalee for this. When it was time to pull their robes on over their clothes, Clara had explained that her suspenders where Hufflepuff colors – black and yellow. She then pointed to the crest on her robe – it was a badger. Quentin found himself a bit nervous now earing his balck robe. At Ilvermorny, the colors were blue and red. More of a pink-ish red, really. They went lovely together and he had always liked them.

"Will I…How will I get sorted?" he asked. In the short amount of time Quentin had had to read up on Hogwarts, he had not found out how transfer students would have gotten sorted. "I really hope I don't have to sit on that stool in front of everyone with all of those first years." Clara gave him a slightly apologetic look while Annalee smirked.

"Dunno," Annalee said. "We don't get hardly any transfers. Not in me and Clara's time anyways." Clara folded her hands in her lap.

"It won't be too bad. And everyone forgets things soon," she said in a way of comfort.

In no time, the three students were leaving the train and Clara stated that their luggage would arrive without them having to get it themselves. Quentin was thankful for this. It still felt odd to have his wand in his pocket, to be able to just have it nearby. He followed the two girls towards a series of carriages, which looked as if they were pulling themselves. But, Clara stopped just by the harness, where a horse would have been hitched to, and lifted a hand. It looked as if she were stroking thin air and Annalee looked absolutely uncomfortable. She tugged at Clara's robe.

"Come on. People are staring!" she hissed. Clara turned a stern gaze onto her friend and Annalee seemed to soften almost instantly. She bristled again, though, and simply went to the carriage. Clara gave the…air? One last pat before following. Quentin glimpsed up to the two girls.

"Er…"

"Thestrals," Clara said as Quentin climbed up. "They pull the carriages. Do you take Care of Magical Creatures at Ilvermorny?" Quenin sat next to her and nodded.

"But I've never heard…" Clara put a finger to her chin, her hazel eyes swishing upwards in thought.

"Hmm…They must be native to Britain. Well, they're gentle creatures really. They look like horses, but most people don't like them because they can't see them."

"Why can you?" Quentin asked. Clara gave him a soft smile while Annalee looked more uncomfortable than ever on the other side of Clara.

"I've seen Death," Clara stated. "My parents…You see, with things how they are…My mum worked as a reporter in the Ministry and my dad was an auror. But they fought together, six years ago, here at Hogwarts." Clara shrugged her petite shoulders with a small smile that tugged more at one side of her mouth than the other. Quentin opened his mouth to say something and then shut it. Her smile grew reassuringly.

"Really, you don't have to say anything," she said. The carriage lurched and they were off; Hogwarts soon loomed into a view: a giant castle outlining against the dark starry night, warm summer still in the air as fireflies blinked in and out. The moon reflected off of the massive, murky lake, but as they drew closer towards a pair of gates, the temperatures dropped exponentially. Quentin shivered, feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach. He glanced at the other two girls and noticed they both wore frowns. Annalee looked plain angry.

"Why do they have them here?" she hissed, more to herself, as she crossed her arms over her chest and sunk further down in her seat. Quentin furrowed her brows. "Dementors!" Annalee's voice was like a quiet whipcrack and Clara reached a hand out to give her friend's arm a gentle squeeze. The air was like ice and Quentin felt utterly awful. He cringed silently as the rattling breath hissed nearby, the dementors looming ominously near the gates as the carriages clunked quietly through. Clara was digging into her messenger bag and pulled out something small. She placed it into Annalee's hand and then Quentin's: chocolate. He took a bite.

"I've never seen dementors in real life before," he murmured. Warmth washed over his body as he took his first swallow of the small bit of chocolate. Feeling was starting to return to his cold-number fingers.

"They're dreadful," Clara said. "Necessary, but dreadful." At Quentin's quizzical look she continued. "There's been a breakout from Azkaban. Some of Voldemort's old followers… They don't know how it happened. But, there are several children of those who opposed Voldemort here at Hogwarts. They could be looking for revenge."

"If they stop our Hogsmeade visits, I'm going on strike," Annalee muttered darkly.

"Thank you for the chocolate," Quentin murmured to Clara. She beamed a bright smile at him in return and for a moment, it took him off guard. They had just passed creatures of death and despair and here she was grinning bright as the moon itself. When the carriages lurched to a stop, Quentin hopped down, gazing up at the huge castle doors before him, along with all of the other students who were lining up in front of them.

By the end of the night, Quentin had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Instead of sitting up in front of the whole school on a silly stool with a bunch of first years, he had blessedly been spared. Instead, a professor had pulled him into her office – a strict looking woman with a pinched face and square-rimmed spectacles – and placed the hat upon him. He had thanked her for that. The feast had been wonderful and Quentin couldn't stop looking around. It was so different from Ilvermorny, with everyone wearing the same colors save for the patches that represented their House on their robes. Ghosts swooped in and out of the Great Hall and candles lit the ceiling that was enchanted to look like the sky outside. It was…breathtaking. He had been dreading coming here, to a new country with new customs and a new school. But Hogwarts had a… cozy feel to it. A few others had introduced themselves at the Ravenclaw table. Quentin knew from his reading that this was the table of scholars – those with wit and who yearned to learn. It made sense. One boy in his year – sixth – was named Edvin. He was a tall, skinny boy with messy bright-blonde hair who seemed very well-informed and educated. He rattled off his classes to Quentin and while he was doing so, he saw Clara over at the Hufflepuff table, smiling around a bowl of mashed potatoes. She looked tiny sitting between two other girls and Quentin remembered that her head only came up to his chest when they were standing. As if she felt his stare, Clara's eyes met his and she flashed him a happy grin, her lavender hair seeming a bit brighter to go with the light color that had risen in her cheeks. She waved almost shyly at him and he smiled in return. Then, out of nowhere, he fixed his features into something comical as the boy next to him continued to prattle on about their Potions professor and his parties only a select few were invited to. Clara clapped a hand over her mouth, falling into a fit of giggles and Quentin felt rather pleased. He focused back on Edvin again, trying to hide his smile.

By the end of the night when he was settled into his four poster bed, Quentin felt like Hogwarts wasn't so bad after all. Of course, he had the whole year to change his mind.