Gerald looked into a compartment only to see a boy about his age already there. The boy glanced away from the window just long enough to mutter, "Hullo."

Gerald scowled. Of course, he could go find somewhere else to sit. He didn't have to sit with the king of rude. Then he heard a voice he had rather grown to hate, and remembered he had a book to keep him company if this boy wouldn't. So he sat across from the boy, found his book, and flipped it open.

"Most people make conversation on long train rides." The boy mumbled again.

"I don't like small talk all that much, and you seem much more invested in the window." Gerald turned a page. "So forgive me for not wanting to socialize with someone who could barely manage eye contact and a 'hullo.'"

"I would happily chat with you if you acted like you cared to."

Gerald scowled and looked up. The boy was glaring at him with a pair of fierce blue eyes that Gerald decided right then would eternally be his least favorite color. "I think I would rather read than associate with the likes of you."

"What did you say?" The boy snapped and stood up.

Gerald slapped his book shut. "I said I would rather read than deal with you. Are you deaf or stupid?"

Not the wisest choice of words. The boy grabbed him by his robes and yanked him to his feet. "Do you have a problem?"

"Yes, actually, it's short and blond, and currently holding my robe." Getting punched in the face, Gerald realized, was well worth getting to say that. Even so, there was nothing quite as satisfying as punching back.

The two were about two seconds from a full-out brawl when suddenly two hands split them apart. "Excuse me!"

Gerald paused to look at the hand planted square in the middle of his chest. It had five pudgy fingers, and was dainty and delicate in a way, much like a baby's hand. He finally turned to look at the owner of the hand.

She pulled her hands back before extending them again in a friendly way. "I'm Margaret!"

Gerald inspected her. Perhaps her robes were a little too large, as well as the smile on her face, and her hands were empty.

Suddenly the other boy took her left hand. "Stephen."

Not to be outdone, Gerald took her right. "I am Gerald White. Pleasure to meet you, Margaret."

Then he caught the girl standing behind Margaret. Her hair fell in long, tight, brown curls. Perhaps by a pure miracle, her hair didn't seem big and it wasn't frizzy at all. Her black eyes seemed to stare into his soul. "I'm Rachel Kilman." Her words sounded the way chocolate pudding tasted, and Gerald had to take a moment to soak in them.

"Pleasure."

Margaret was suddenly right in his face with her big, sweet smile. "Are your parents wizards?"

Gerald gently pushed her away. "Yes."

She turned to Rachel and mumbled something. Gerald was careful in listening, but he still couldn't quite understand what she had said. Margaret didn't speak fast, but her words seemed to blur into each other, and when she wasn't looking at him Gerald couldn't tell what she said.

Rachel brushed a curl out of her face. "The Whites are a fairly prominent family in the wizard world. They're important members of the ministry of magic."

"Ah." Margaret turned back to Gerald. "My parents'aren't wizards infactI haven't seen m' father ina long time…" She trailed off a little bit and then suddenly glanced at Rachel.

Rachel smiled at Stephen and Gerald. "I've been telling her since we got on that she needs to speak more clearly so others could understand her, but she forgets when she gets excited, which as you can see, happens quite often."

Gerald still needed a moment to indulge in Rachel's words every time she spoke. "Yes, I can see that." Then he paused to wonder if she thought his voice was too nasely or high-pitched; it hadn't started to change yet, and he always wondered if he sounded annoying—

"I'm sorry I forget to speak clearl' I usuall' just talk to animals and they don' complain too much…" Margaret's voice, Gerald realized, was almost soothing in how she spoke, much like a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into it. Now he realized that as hard as it was to understand her, he could have listened to her talk forever.

"Hey, Maggie," Stephen put a hand on her shoulder, "you like animals?"

Margaret blinked at Stephen's nickname for her before her bright smile returned. "Yeah! I like animals! They're so shweet and cute an' I love them a lo'!"

Stephen smiled and patted the underside of his seat. Gerald spotted the emerald eyes a second after Margaret did. "Is that a kitty?" She squeaked and knelt on the floor. The cat crawled out from the tiny space under the seat and leapt onto her shoulder.

"His name is Figero. Or Rude Bas—" Rachel glared at Stephen before he finished. "Rude Guy."

Gerald got it. Innocent child, don't ruin her. "I've got an owl myself." He told Margaret. "But he's busy delivering a letter for me. I'll introduce you when he meets us at Hogwarts.

Margaret grinned brightly and stood up, cat still on her shoulder. "Hogwarts is amazing isn't it? I wouldn' know, since I've never been. Have any of you been befo'e?"

Stephen and Gerald shook their heads slowly. Rachel took Margaret's hand. "We could go around the train some more to see if we can find someone who has been there before."

Margaret grinned. "Alright!"

Gerald smiled slightly as he followed Rachel, Margaret, and Stephen out of the compartment. Mostly he wanted to hear Margaret and Rachel talk with their sweet voices, but he was also slightly curious about the seven years ahead of him at Hogwarts. Perhaps he should have stayed behind and let them slip away without him. Then nothing would have changed in the wizarding world, and the four houses would have remained the four houses.