Belle weaved her trolley through the gaps in the crowd at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, struggling to keep the owl cage that held Archimedes steady. The platform was a whirlwind of movement and noise: trolleys squeaked as they rushed past her, owls squawking indignantly when their cages collided. Trunks were being lifted onto the train as parents hugged their children, reminding them to write and would they please try to stay out of trouble?
She watched as a boy and girl, both blonde and wide-eyed, crashed through the portal onto the platform, looking awestruck. Belle snorted. Muggle-born. They were impressed so easily.
"David, look," the girl gasped, pointing at the Hogwarts Express. "It's so big."
"I see it," he breathed.
A whistle blew, loud and piercing. "Fifteen minutes to departure!" a man's voice called.
Feeling a little panicked, Belle pushed her trolley to the loading dock, the wheels jerking as she fought past the hustle and bustle. She gripped the handle of her trunk and tugged, but it refused to budge.
"Come on, please?" she begged, pulling harder. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers aching as she tried to move it, if only an inch—
"Here, I got it." A boy appeared at her side, taking the handle from her. Belle caught her breath as he gave it a good strong tug and pulled it off the trolley, grunting as it fell rather heavily to the ground. "Sorry," he said, sounding a little out of breath.
"No, no, thank you!" Belle scrambled to help him push it onto the ramp to load it onto the train.
"There we go," he said cheerfully, wiping his hands before offering her one to shake. "I'm Neal."
"Belle," she smiled, shaking his hand. "Thanks for that, I've no idea how I could have done that without you."
He grinned. "Don't worry about it." He started walking backward, giving her a wave. "See you later." Belle waved back, watching him disappear into the crowd.
She lifted Archimedes' cage, holding it gingerly as he started flapping his wings restlessly. "Oh, hush," she said irritably, climbing the train's narrow steps.
The compartments were small, but comfortable-looking. Belle peered through the sliding doors' semi-opaque panes, trying to find an empty one, but most had already been filled. By the time she'd found one, her arm was aching from the effort of holding Archimedes' cage. Gratefully, she set him down, pulling out Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. She pulled her knees up and leaned between the cushion and the window, preparing to lose herself in the textbook.
Somewhere between the introduction and the middle of the first chapter, the train had started to move. She didn't bother looking out the window to watch all the parents waving farewell to their children, shouting out last-minute I love you!'s. Her father was a Healer at St. Mungo's, far too busy with patients to be able to see her off.
She had just started reading about the Ministry's Official Ethical Guidelines when the door to her compartment slid open. She glanced up to see a boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes smirking at her.
"Anyone sitting here?" he asked, inviting himself in. Belle frowned as he threw himself into the opposite seat, making himself at home as he propped his feet on the edge of her seat.
He's just looking for attention, she told herself, going back to her book. Don't give it to him.
"Are you reading a textbook?"
Belle flicked her eyes up. "No, just looking at the pictures," she said dryly. The boy raised his eyebrows, grinning as he folded his arms behind his head.
"Muggle-born?" he asked, disdain coloring the question.
Belle narrowed her eyes. "No," she said coolly. "Unless a 'yes' would get you to move to another compartment?"
"Ooh-hoo-hoo, not very nice," the boy said, smiling nastily. Belle said nothing; only lowered her gaze back to the page. She ignored his shoes tapping softly against hers, focusing instead on when it was and when it was not appropriate to perform a memory charm on a Muggle.
"You do know that Hogwarts has teachers? You don't have to learn it all on the train ride over."
Belle clenched her teeth, but kept her eyes fixed on her book. He was trying to get a rise out of her, that was all. She could handle a stupid boy; no reason to lose her temper.
"Unless you are Muggle-born, and you don't want to look stupid in front of everyone, so you're cramming before we get there."
Must not lose her temper, not again.
"Probably have some idiot Muggle for a father…"
She tightened her grip on the book, trying to steady her breathing.
"…some Muggle cow for a mother—"
"Shut up!"
She had thrown the book down and was now glaring fiercely at the boy. His eyes flashed, his mouth twisting into a mocking smile.
"Oh…I seem to have hit a nerve. I must be getting close."
In a flurry of movement, her wand was out, pointed threateningly at the boy. He glanced at it, a flicker of fear in his eyes, but then it was gone and he was smirking at her just as before.
"Go ahead," he challenged. "Impress me."
"Get lost, Jones."
Belle turned her head: Neal was standing in the doorway, giving the other boy a very ugly look. Jones narrowed his eyes, slowly pushing himself off the seat. "Or what?" he asked, brushing past Belle without giving her a second glance.
"Leave her alone, she's not bothering you." Neal folded his arms.
"And?" Jones stopped in front of Neal, giving him an icy smile. "I don't seem to remember asking you for your opinion."
"Maybe we should get your brother's." Neal raised his eyebrows. "He's a prefect, isn't he? Bet he'd love this."
"Going to tell on me?" Jones sneered.
"Just trying to give you one last chance to back off."
"Why? Think you can take me on?"
"I don't know, but I reckon she can," Neal said, nodding toward Belle. She fought a smile as Jones involuntarily glanced at her wand. He met her eyes coldly, and scoffed.
"I've got better things to do, anyway," he said, roughly pushing past Neal, and out the compartment. Neal watched him go, the sour look lingering on his face, before he turned back to Belle.
"Don't worry about him," he said. "He's not worth it."
Belle smiled at him. "Thank you. Again."
Neal shyly scratched the back of his head. "'S'nothing," he shrugged. "Look, I don't know if you wanted to be alone so you could concentrate, but… well, we've got space for you in our compartment if…if you want."
Belle fiddled with a hole in her sleeve. She hadn't had a lot of friends back home; she'd spent most of her time looking through Flourish and Blotts at books she couldn't afford. "Erm…yeah. Yeah, all right, then. Let me just get Archimedes."
"And Dad was just standing there pointing, 'Look at the owl! Look the owl!'" Emma clutched her brother's arm, rocking in laughter. Belle smiled around her half-eaten Pumpkin Pasty, still not entirely sure why Emma and David's father was put off by owl post.
"We'd never even heard of Hogwarts before the letters came," David grinned. "Mum thought it was a joke at first—"
"She chucked the first four letters. Then she got this red envelope—"
"—and it opened up like a mouth, and started shouting at her!"
"A Howler from the Ministry?" Neal snickered. "Your poor mother."
"A what?" Emma said, unwrapping another Chocolate Frog.
"That's what we call them, the screaming letters," Belle explained. "Howlers."
Emma and David exchanged a look of wonder.
"Howlers," Emma repeated.
"Screaming letters." David shook his head, laughing. "God, I love magic."
At first, she had thought Neal's compartment was a bit cramped, what with four people crammed in there, but Belle quite liked it. The food trolley had come round, and Neal had dug a pouch out of his pocket and deposited a few Galleons in the witch's hand.
"Dad's pretty generous about pocket money," he had said in response to everyone's wide eyes. "Got a high level Ministry job, and it's only the two of us, so…" A shadow crossed his features, but just as quickly, he shook his head and grinned. "Come on, let's spoil our dinner."
The twins had marveled at everything that was passed to them. David gasped when a Fizzing Whizbee lifted him a few inches above his seat while Emma squealed at the Chocolate Frog jumping in her hand. Neal and Belle had laughed at their amazement, especially when they gave them Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Beans to try.
"It's…oh, God, it's awful!" Emma gagged on a burnt rubber bean.
"You actually like these?" David said in disbelief, still trying to get the taste of overcooked broccoli out of his mouth. "They're disgusting!"
"That's the point!" Neal laughed.
"My God, just think what Mum would say if she saw these," Emma said, staring at the box. "She'd go absolutely mental."
"Really?" Belle said, wrinkling her nose.
"Oh, yeah," David said, nodding emphatically. "You should have seen her when we got our letters…"
By the time the twins had finished explaining their very Muggle parents and their very Muggle reactions, the sky had grown dark. Neal leaned past Emma to peer out the window, cupping his hand around it.
"'S'pect we'll be arriving soon," he said. "I can see the castle from here."
"Is it true we have to cross the moat in little boats?" Emma asked, tapping him on the shoulder. "I heard a prefect talking about it earlier."
"Only first years have to cross in the boats," Neal said, sitting back. "We've got to get Sorted first. Everyone else just goes to their House table in the Great Hall."
"Houses?" David raised an eyebrow.
"You'll see," Belle promised.
The train slowed, dragging along the tracks for a good twenty minutes before it halted to a stop in front of the castle. Belle felt her mouth open in awe, staring at the enormity of it. Even through the darkness, she could make out the impossibly tall towers, the great stone walls reaching toward the heavens with infinite windows.
"Oh, my God," Emma gasped. "David, look."
"I see it," he breathed.
Belle shivered in the Great Hall, still feeling the chill from the lake in her bones. It had been bitterly cold, the wind biting at her skin as little waves underneath the boat had slapped her arms. She was grateful for the warmth of the castle now, but she still kept rubbing her arms furiously.
The first years had been alphabetically lined up before being Sorted. Belle was thankful her name was closer to the beginning, so she wouldn't have to stand with the older students staring at her for long.
After the Sorting Hat had sung through the four Houses (a rather jaunty number, Belle thought, unable to stop from tapping her feet), Professor McGonagall had unfurled the roster and began calling out names in her sharp, severe voice. She had gone through the A's, the B's, and part of the C's when she called out a name Belle recognized.
"Cassidy, Neal!"
Neal stumbled forward. Belle smiled to herself as McGonagall placed the Hat on his head. He looked nervous, his shoulders slightly hunched with the effort of balancing it while it thought.
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaws whooped and cheered, clapping their hands together as Neal grinned and scampered off to sit with them. Belle beamed: she already knew she was going to be in Ravenclaw, her entire family had been. She felt less nervous, now that Neal had been Sorted into Ravenclaw: she'd been hoping they'd be in the same House.
Eventually, McGonagall called out, "French, Belle!" and she took a deep breath, trying to settle the horrible fluttering feeling in her stomach. As she took her seat on the stool, she felt the weight of a hundred thousand eyes on her. Her breath hitched as McGonagall placed the Hat on her: it was heavy. She could hear its voice in her head, sifting through her thoughts, as she clutched the side of the stool with white fingers.
"Oh, very bright…bold, but not quite brave…there's compassion, patience…oh ho, bit of a temper, too, eh?…But what a mind, what a great mind, what a clever girl you are. Perfect fit for… RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaws cheered. Belle hopped off the stool happily, practically skipping toward them. Neal, clapping and whooping along with the others, caught her eye and patted the seat next to his. She beamed at him, sitting down and accepting his whispered, "Congratulations!" before they turned around to watch the rest of the Sorting.
It wasn't until the professor called "Jones, Killian!" that Belle felt anything less than delight. But when she recognized the arrogant set of his shoulders as he swaggered up to the stool, she felt her hands clench into fists. The Sorting Hat sat on his head for all of ten seconds before it decided on: "SLYTHERIN!"
Jones smirked, as if he was completely unsurprised by his Sorting, and went over to sit with the other Slytherins. Neal muttered something in disgust.
Emma and David both became Gryffindors, the Sorting Hat resting slightly longer on David then Emma, who'd barely touched it before it Sorted her. Belle and Neal cheered along with the Gryffindors as the twins proudly took their places.
By the time the Sorting had finished, Belle's stomach was grumbling. She hadn't realized how many first years there were; or for that matter, how long the headmaster could talk. Most of his speech seemed to be filled with warnings about this corridor and that corridor, wandering into the Dark Forest alone, something about thestrals, and a lot about Mr. Filch's newly instated rules. Belle found herself drifting off around Rule Seventeen ("Chocolate Frogs are banned from the library indefinitely!") and it wasn't until Neal jerked her elbow that she was even aware the speeches had finished.
"And now, everyone, I would ask that you remember to chew and swallow your food entirely! Tuck in!"
The empty tables instantly filled with more food Belle had ever seen in her life. There were heaps of potatoes, mounds of different vegetables, entire chickens glistening under the candlelight, all sorts of soups and chowder in great big bowls with ladles floating in them, mountains of bread, five different meats that she didn't recognize in the slightest (although, she was convinced the purplish one was dragon), and who knew what else?
"So which class are you most looking forward to?" Neal asked, taking a swig of pumpkin juice.
"Potions, I think," Belle said, scooping greens on her plate. "You?"
"Quidditch," he grinned. "I know it's not exactly a class, and there's no way I can make the team this year, but we do get flying lessons. And you know what flying means?"
"Er…"
"Brooms!" he said enthusiastically. "I've been asking my dad for a new broom for months now, I've had my eye on this really cool new Cleansweep…"
Neal launched into an in-depth discussion of his dream-broom, talking about things like aerodynamic bristles and air-current-catching handles. Somehow, that bled into a discussion about Quidditch teams, and how the Cannons were never going to win, not even if they Stupefied the entire World Cup Stadium. In the middle of Neal's tirade against the Tornadoes' new Keeper, another first year boy (who Belle recognized as "Hatter, Jefferson!") joined in, arguing that the Tornadoes had been showing promise for years. They continued bickering until the plates had been cleared and the prefects were ordered to guide the first years to the dormitories.
"Is it true we've got to answer to a riddle to get into the Ravenclaw rooms?" Jefferson asked as they followed the prefects out.
"I think so," Belle said. "Cleverest House, and all…s'pose it only makes sense."
"What if you can't get it?" he said, a little nervously. "Do you just… sit there and wait? Until someone else gets it?"
"That's why I'm friends with her," Neal said brightly, jutting his thumb at Belle. "She'll get it."
Belle flushed at his praise, and even more at the fact that he said they were friends. Oh, yes. Ravenclaw House was going to work out quite nicely for her.