Killian twisted the hem of his ratty sweater as he watched the train approach. It was the shiniest, reddest thing he had ever seen. Any other day his brother's hand on his shoulder would be the only thing keeping him from falling over as he stretched onto his toes for a better view. But today he clung to Liam's side, shying away from the noise and the crowd that surged forward.
"Oh, buck up, Killian," Liam said, leaning next to Killian's ear so he didn't have to shout over the squealing brakes. His brother knelt, squeezing his arms gently. "It'll be alright. You'll barely miss me, I promise. Once they get you sorted, you'll be so busy making new friends you won't even think to write me."
"Yes, I will. I'll write every day!"
Liam laughed.
"I'll not hold you to that. Wait until you get your first homework assignment." Liam tried to stand, but Killian had a death grip on his wrists. "Killian, I'll be right here, on this platform when you come home. I promise." He roughed up Killian's hair as he stood. "And with any luck, I'll have a decent flat by that time."
Killian looked down, scuffing his shoe against the ground. "Do you think—"
"I don't know," Liam sighed. "I—I hope so. But she's been sick a long time."
Killian glanced up, catching a hint of the disappointment that clouded his brother's eyes every time their mother was mentioned. Why didn't you tell me, Killian?
Liam cleared his throat. "Come on, let's get your things onto the train."
With a wink at Killian, Liam pulled out his wand and tapped the trunk. There was a quick flash of light and suddenly all of Killian's worldly possessions were floating a foot off the ground.
Killian's jaw dropped.
It was a simple spell, but Killian had seen precious little magic in his home despite having a witch for a mother. Liam seemed to know everything about magic. He had graduated from Hogwarts with high marks last term and already had a job in the Aurors' office.
Liam gestured for Killian to get the trunk and set off for the back of the train.
Killian closed his fingers around the handle, half expecting it to spark or the trunk to drop suddenly, but it only needed a gentle tug and it followed him. Tightening his grip, Killian set off in his brother's wake. A little thrill of excitement ran through him, maybe going to Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad if he could learn to do things like this.
They found a spot and Liam helped him shove his trunk in.
"I'm sorry I couldn't buy you an animal," Liam said as he caught Killian eyeing the snowy owl a little further down the line.
Killian shrugged. "It's alright." It would have been nice to have a pet, but he knew Liam had scraped everything he could just to buy the secondhand robes and schoolbooks, so he wasn't going to complain. "It'd be a mess of work to train it."
Liam smiled. "Perhaps we'll hold off until we can afford a trained pet then."
Someone rushed past, jostling them, and Liam grabbed Killian by the hand as they hurried toward the passenger's compartment. Twice, they were nearly separated by the rush of students trying to get their things on the train before it left the platform. They found a door that wasn't packed with people and Liam pulled Killian in for a hug.
"You'll do great, little brother," Liam whispered.
All of Killian's excitement fled, dragged down by the sinking of his gut. What if this was the last time he saw his older brother? After all, Father had planned to return on the night he died, hadn't he? He couldn't remember that night, but he was sure it was true.
He clutched at Liam's jacket. "What if something happens?"
"Now you listen here, Killian," Liam said, the teasing lilt in his voice sounding very much like Mother on her good days. "Nothing's going to happen to me. I've got years before they let me do anything dangerous. And as for you?" He tugged at Killian's ear. "You'll be safe as houses at Hogwarts." Liam hugged him one last time, roughing up his hair all over again just for good measure. "Now you be sure to send me an owl as soon as you're settled."
Killian did his best to hold his head high as he walked down the car looking for an empty compartment. Everyone he passed wore neat, crisp clothes—some of them already wore their school robes—and he felt like the rattiest, smallest child on the train.
Someone bumped into Killian from behind as he stepped back from yet another full compartment.
"Hey!" cried a high, feminine voice.
"Oh, sorry," Killian said, ducking head, more convinced than ever that going to Hogwarts was a horrible idea. He tried to slip past, but the girl he ran into had friends and they spread out behind her to block the way.
"You'd better be." Her dark eyes narrowed, hands going to her hips. She took a step closer. "Wait? Don't I know you?" She tucks a lock of straight, dark hair behind an ear. A sly smile stretched across her face. "I do know you. You were all over the Prophet a few months ago."
Kilian bowed his head in shame, knowing full well what she referred to, despite Liam's best attempts to shield him from it. Liam couldn't, not when Killian had spent most of his childhood getting up early enough to retrieve each day's edition of the Daily Prophet before his mother woke. It was impossible to tell what kind of story would upset her, so it was just best to dispose of the wizarding newspaper before she saw it. There were several mornings that he found himself crouched over the paper on the stoop before he remembered that Mother wasn't there anymore, she would never see any of the stories, but he had.
He knew exactly which article Regina referred to. He remembered the picture, splashed across the front page, every detail of his mother's quivering face repeating over and over again like a broken video.
The girl tapped her chin. "What was it? Mother went mad I think?"
"What of it?" He clenched his jaw.
Behind her, her two friends crossed their arms. He knew the look in all three pairs of eyes, he'd seen it in countless people who were bigger and stronger than he was, these girls were geared up for a fight and he was their target.
The dark-haired girl shrugged. "You know, my mother says it wouldn't have happened if we didn't teach magic to Muggles. Pity too, I hear the Joneses were a good family before your dad went and married a Mudblood. Bet he'd regret it now. If he was alive."
"Shut up," Killian spat, clenching his fists. He didn't know the word she just used, but he understood the tone enough to know she had called his mum something nasty. "You don't know what you're talking about. My mum was a hero."
One of the other girls, a blonde, snorted. "Your mum was hardly fit to wield a wand."
"My mother says she cracked the minute the Dark One's followers got ahold of her," the first girl added. "And she would know. My aunt was the one that did it. Mother was at the trial and everything."
Killian wanted to lunge at her, slug her right in her weasel-like face, but Liam paid good money—hard-earned money—for everything he needed to go to Hogwarts. He wasn't going to get expelled before he ever got there.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, trying to push past them.
"Are you calling my mother a liar?" the first girl asked. She stepped forward, shoving Killian hard.
Thanks to surprise and over a year of barely adequate meals, she was bigger and stronger than Killian and he went down hard. Pain shot up his spine and his head cracked against the floor. The walls tilted—were still tilting when a sharp crack echoed down the corridor.
"Hey, what's the trouble here?" A girl with long, blonde hair blocked his view of the trio, her hand held out to him. "Are you okay? Did they do this?"
Killian nodded. Her hand felt bony in his, but she pulled him to his feet with relative ease.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" the first girl asked.
The new girl spun, hands on her hips, head thrown back. Three gasps cut the silence.
"I'm Emma. Emma Swan."
The dark-haired girl's eyes went wide, her sneer falling.
"So it's true. The Girl Who Lived has come to Hogwarts." She burst into a grin. She nodded over each shoulder, first to the dark-skinned girl with curly hair and then to the pinch-faced blonde. "This is Ursula Crabbe and Maleficent Goyle. And I'm Regina. Regina Malfoy." Her sneer returned as she eyed Killian. "You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Swan, you don't want to go hanging around with the wrong sort." With a toss of her hair, she extended a hand to Emma. "I can help you there."
Emma glanced at the proffered hand, smiling sickly sweet as her eyes flicked back up to Regina's.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself. Thanks."
She hauled back and popped Regina in the nose so quickly that Killian didn't even register the blow until Regina screamed in outrage, her hands flying up to her face.
The crack of two more doors sliding open sounded in the corridor.
From behind him, a lad called out, "What's going on?" as the same time that a girl called out, "Regina? What happened?"
The latter shoved Maleficent aside, trying to pry Regina's hands away from her face. She was mite of a thing, short and round-faced, with large, green eyes and short, black hair.
"She hit me," Regina moaned as the new girl finally peeled her hands away. A little bit of blood dripped from her nose.
"You pushed him first," Emma shot back, jerking her thumb at Killian.
"And insulted my mum," he added. "Called her a Mudblood, whatever that means."
Emma didn't react, but both newcomers gasped.
"Regina, honestly," the dark-haired girl muttered. "You brought that on yourself, then. You can find someone else to fix this."
The trio glared at Killian and his three rescuers. Maleficent and Ursula exchanged an uncertain glance.
Emma shrugged. "Go ahead, try. Or is it not as much fun when the odds aren't in your favor?"
If looks could kill, Emma Swan would have been a smoking pile of ash.
Finally, Regina stuck her nose in the air. "This isn't over, Swan." She and her friends spun on their heels and marched down the hall in unison, disappearing into one of the compartments as she called, "You can find a new place to sit Mary Margaret."
"Are you alright?" Mary Margaret asked, peering at Killian. "I'm sorry about my cousin, she's a bit of a…
"Bitch?" Emma supplied.
"Well, that's one way of putting it." She held out her hand, a bright friendly smile on her face as she surveyed the three of them. Killian got the sudden feeling that the four of them no longer had any choice but to be friends. "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard."
"Killian," he said, taking her hand. "Killian Jones."
He tried not to flinch at the spark of recognition in the eyes of her and the blond boy, but both were polite enough to keep their mouths shut.
The blond boy grinned. "David Nolan."
"And I'm Emma," Emma said.
"Emma Swan? That Emma?"
Emma blushed.
And suddenly the name clicked. Even as sheltered from the magical world as he grew up, Killian knew about Emma Swan. He felt very small. This was the girl who defeated You Know Who as a baby and she—The Girl Who Lived herself—had come to his rescue. Killian wanted to thank her, but his mouth seemed to have forgotten how to work.
David slung an arm around Emma's shoulders. "Yeah, that Emma. Listen, we've got a whole compartment to ourselves, why don't you two come sit with us?" His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, like they were all in on some great secret.
He led them to a compartment that was empty save for a sour-faced boy sitting against the window.
"This is my twin brother, James," David said, though he really needn't have added the clarification. It was obvious the boys were twins.
"More people, David? Really?" he huffed.
"There's plenty of room."
"Yeah, that's probably what Mom and Dad said, too."
"Oh stop it," David said, shoving his brother's shoulder as he sat. "He's just bitter cause everything we have is handed down from our older brothers. We're fifth and sixth to go to Hogwarts. It's a lot to live up to."
"That's an understatement," James said as he stared gloomily out the window. "Tom was head boy, Phil was Quidditch captain. Artie's a Prefect now and even Happy gets good marks for all the goofing off he and that friend of his do. And we're expected to do as well as the others, but if we do, it's not like Mum and Dad'll care cause the others did it first."
"Never get anything new with five brothers, either," David said. "Old robes, old wands…"
"And no pets."
"We've got Scabbers." David reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fat, gray rat. It's fur was patchy in places and despite less than gentle handling, it was snoring.
"You mean, you've got Scabbers," James said. "Even if you could share a rat, I wouldn't want to share that mangy, old thing."
David held the rat up for everyone to see. "Used to be Arthur's, but Mum and Dad got him an owl when he made Prefect. But they couldn't—well, why spend money on more pets than you need, right?"
James glowered. "Why not just come out with it, Davey. We're poor. They'll figure it out soon enough."
David went red all the way to his hairline. Hastily, he started to stuff the rat back in his jacket pocket, his eyes on the floor. The way James said the word poor had Killian feeling a little dirty himself.
"Nothing wrong with scraping by," Emma said with a shrug. "I didn't have any money at all until Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley."
Everyone's eyes turned to her and the compartment grew very quiet.
"So it's true?" Mary Margaret said. "You really…you know…?" She gestured daintily at Emma's scar.
Emma pushed her hair back and there it was, a jagged line just shy of the center of her forehead. The dull red of it stood out against her pale skin, still angry, but old. She let her hair fall back in place and Killian didn't understand how he missed the mark, if anything, her bangs only highlighted it.
David stared with wide eyes. "So that's where You-Know-Who…"
Emma nodded.
"Do you remember any of it?" James asked.
"James!" his twin protested.
"What? It's just a question?"
"Maybe she doesn't want to talk about it," David hissed.
Emma shrugged. "It's fine. I don't really remember much. I didn't even know it was Rumplestilskin until—"
Four nearly identical hisses echoed in the compartment. As much as Mother sheltered Killian from the magical world, even he knew that you never said Rumplestiltskin's name aloud. The one time he dared to use the name, it had taken most of an evening to calm her down again. Of course, with Mother, You-Know-Who and the Dark One were nearly as dangerous.
"You said You-Know-Who's name!" David said with equal parts terror and awe.
Emma looked utterly perplexed.
Mary Margaret finally managed a soft smile. "It's just no ever says that name. My gran says only the very brave or very foolish say it out loud. I'm not sure why, it's just always been that way."
"I wasn't trying to be brave." Emma twisted her hands in her lap. "I just never knew you shouldn't. I don't—I don't know anything about magic or wizards or—or any of it." Her voice cracked on the last word. She continued so softly that everyone in the compartment leaned in to catch her words. "I bet I'm the worst in the class."
David and Mary Margaret were quick to contradict her, using soft, soothing tones like you might with a skittish pet. Emma only ducked her head lower.
"It's alright," Killian said, cutting David off mid-sentence. "I don't know much of anything either, except for what I've read in our school books. I was practically raised a Muggle too." He tried to ignore the way the other three pointedly looked away from him. "We can learn it all together."
Emma glanced up and offered a small smile.
"And I'll help you!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.
Just then, their door slid back and a round-faced woman peeked in, her smile so wide her dimples looked permanent.
"Anything off the cart, dears?"
Mary Margaret jumped to her feet, followed by Emma, but Killian, David, and James turned to the window—James even stuck his nose in the air a bit—and pretended to be engrossed with the passing field of cows.
The seat bounced a bit as Emma sat next to Killian again, her arms laden with treats if the rustling was any indication. Sure enough, when he turned back to her, she had dumped a veritable mountain of candy on the seat between them. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Licorice Wands and so much more.
"I've never had any of it," Emma said with a sheepish grin. "I think I lost my head a bit. You'll all help me if I can't finish this, right?"
"James and I've got sandwiches, thanks," David said, reaching into his bag and not quite hiding his grimace as he pulled out a baggie of slightly squashed sandwiches.
James made a face. "Corned beef? Mum knows I don't like corned beef."
Killian thought he could like corned beef if it came along with a mother who made him sandwiches. If the look on her face was anything to go by, Emma agreed with him.
"I'll trade you a…" she paused, eyeing the flaky pastry in her hand.
"A pumpkin pasty," Mary Margaret supplied helpfully.
"A pumpkin pasty for one of your sandwiches."
James sneered at her, but David slapped a half a sandwich in her hand with a grin.
"They're a bit dry," he said around a mouthful of sandwich.
Emma shrugged. "That's not the worst thing a sandwich can be."
Soon, her treats were making the rounds around the compartment, David and James' pride forgotten after she forced some of her sweets on Killian and Mary Margaret as well. The boys set to the Chocolate Frogs, mostly ignoring the candy and instead griping about how none of the cards were the ones they needed to complete their collection. As they had no collection, Emma and Killian snatched up the discarded cards. Emma goggled over the moving pictures.
"So that's Dumbledore?" she asked, turning it over to read the back.
Her awe over the Chocolate Frogs was nothing compared to the faces she made over Bertie Bott's beans. She'd bought several packs and the group sat alternately grimacing and cheering depending on whether the beans were good or bad.
"Oh, that's awful," Emma said, spitting what turned out to be a spinach bean into her hand. "Why would anyone want to make such a thing?"
The other four shrugged.
"Do you suppose we're getting close?" David asked.
"I don't know." Mary Margaret scooted up on her bench, her legs kicking at the side. "Have you thought about what house you'll be in?"
"I hope I'm in Gryffindor."
James snorted. "Of course you do. Mama's perfect baby boy."
"And you don't want to be?" David shot back, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Wait, what's a Gryffindor?" Emma's nose crinkled as she looked at each of them.
"It's a name one of the school houses," Killian supplied. "There are four. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."
Mary Margaret nodded. "I hope I'm in Gryffindor, too. My dad was in Gryffindor." She shrugged. "Though I suppose there's no shame in being in any of the houses."
"Except Slytherin." David's face puckered up. "There's not a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin."
James, Killian noted, looked pointedly out the window, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"They aren't all bad," Mary Margaret said hotly. "My mother was in Slytherin." She turned on Emma and Killian. "What about you two? What houses do you think you'll be in?"
Killian shrugged. "My brother says I'm a Hufflepuff for sure. Just like him."
"I've no idea," Emma said. She picked at the cuff of her sweater. "Probably whatever house gets stuck with the short straw."
Killian opened his mouth to say she was a Gryffindor if he ever saw one. At least, he thought so based on what Liam had told him about the loudest, brashest house. His brother always spoke of his friends in Gryffindor with equal parts awe and exasperation. The train whistle cut him off before he could speak though and suddenly they were all in a flurry, pulling their robes out of their school bags.
"Oh, bother, has anyone seen a toad?" Mary Margaret asked. "I told Gran she should have gotten me an owl, I'm absolutely useless with amphibians."
At last, with some creative maneuvering, they had all donned their robes and repacked their bags.
"Oh," Emma gasped. "Look."
Out the window, they caught a glimpse of a massive castle. It loomed over a large, glassy lake, the tall towers stretching higher than anything Killian ever remembered seeing. Lights shone in every window, shifting with the telltale flicker of candlelight.
"Have you ever seen anything like it?" Emma whispered.
Killian shook his head.
The five of them clustered as tightly as possible, keeping each other upright as they were bumped and jostled toward the door. All around them, boys and girls whispered excitedly, but over the general din, one voice stood out. A big, booming voice only partially muffled by the walls and windows of the train.
Emma's face lit up.
"I know who that is," she said, bursting away from the group the moment they cleared the doors.
With a look at David, Killian took off after her, though he needn't have worried. She pulled up short not twenty feet down the platform, right in front of the largest person Killian had ever seen. If Emma doubled in height, she would still have to crane her neck to look him in the eye and he was nearly as wide as she was tall. He wore a great coat made more of patches than anything else and his hair and beard obscured nearly all his features save for intelligent, black eyes.
"Hello, Hagrid!" Emma beamed at him as the others caught up.
"Hello, Emma." He had a pleasant voice when he wasn't bellowing, soft and rough. Killian liked it immediately. "Is that everyone? Any stragglers?" Hagrid hoisted his lamp up even higher, peering behind the group. He nodded in satisfaction. "Alright, all you first years, yeh get to take a trip across the lake. Gives you the best view. Four to a boat."
Hagrid stepped back, letting the children surge forward. Emma was practically bouncing as she approached the shoreline. The water glistened, black as a beetle's back and twice as shiny, the little boats bobbing in time with waves that could only be seen by slivers of moonlight. Emma jumped into one of the boats and Killian and Mary Margaret followed. David hesitated before waving them on as he hurried after his twin.
"Hold up," Hagrid said, stooping low to the ground, "is somebody missing a toad?"
Mary Margaret raised her hand. "Trevor!"
Hagrid handed over the toad and she stuffed Trevor bag in her back as a petite girl with long brown hair climbed into their boat.
"Off yeh go," Hagrid said, shoving the boat into the water. "And keep yer hands out of the water. Don't want anything getting' any ideas!"
Emma shot a startled glance at Killian, but he only shrugged. Liam had given him an old copy Hogwarts: A History over the summer, so Killian knew that all kinds of interesting creatures lived in the lake—including a giant squid—but one look at the faces in the boats around him convinced him that he should keep quiet about that little detail.
The boats sailed toward the castle, despite not having oars or a sail of any kind and Killian wondered what spell moved them so smoothly. His awe turned to other things, however, as they approached the castle. His neck bent nearly in half as he tried to get a good look at the castle overshadowing them. It looked less ethereal this close up, the architecture squat and solid, like one of the old cathedrals he'd visited on a trip at his Muggle school.
Hagrid led them up a sandy beach and over a stone bridge, wide enough that with students walking four or even five abreast there was room on either side. Killian held his breath as they approached doors that, he thought, could probably withstand a dragon.
"Alright, up them stairs," Hagrid said. "I'll see yeh in the hall."
The group of students obeyed, finding an elderly looking witch in brilliant green robes staring down at them.
"She looks like she swallowed a lemon," Emma whispered to Killian.
He giggled, but cut it off when someone delivered a swift elbow to his ribs. He glanced to his other side to find David staring straight ahead, straight at the witch who had fixed their entire group with an impassive stare.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall." She sounded like someone who had traveled very far and seen very many things. And as old as she was, that was probably true, Killian decided. "The start of term banquet will begin in a few minutes, but first you must all be sorted into your houses. Your house here at Hogwarts will be like your family." She went on to explain a little about the houses—most of which he already knew—and house points. "Now, if you'll follow me please."
With David on his left and Emma on his right, Killian followed the rest of the group into the Great Hall.
"Oh look," Emma breathed, her eyes on the ceiling.
Above them floated hundreds of candles, providing most of the light for the room. And even further above that, the room seemed to open up into the night sky, twinkling stars barely visible beyond the candles' glow.
"Oh!" Killian whispered. "I read about this. The ceilings enchanted so it always shows what the sky looks like outside."
If possible, Emma's eyes got even wider. "It looks like there's nothing there at all."
When they reached the end of the long tables, Professor McGonagall swept her arm across the front of the room. The children lined up in front of the dais, staring up at all the teachers sitting at the head table. Killian recognized Hagrid samong the teachers. There was a witch with a tall, pointed hat. Another with large glasses and hair nearly as bushy as Hagrid's. A skinny wizard, with a turban and the face of a weasel was hunched over his plate. And a sallow-skinned man with greasy hair surveyed the students dispassionately until his dark eyes came to Killian's group. Sharp and glistening, his eyes narrowed and Killian very much wanted to hide until he realized that the teacher wasn't staring at him, but at Emma. She failed to notice.
"Is that Mr. Dumbledore?" she whispered, leaning close to Killian.
He glanced at the wizard she indicated, sitting smack in the middle of the table wearing dark robes that only highlighted the whiteness of his hair and beard. Killian nodded.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention to where she stood now. Next to her, on top of a three-legged stool, sat the oddest hat Killian had ever seen. Once, perhaps, it was a tall, proud witch or wizard's hat, but now it was faded and patchy, with a frayed brim and a crease in the middle so deep it could have been a tear.
Emma's eyes widened. "Are they going to see if we can pull a rabbit out of the hat? Is that how they test us?"
Before Killian could tell her he didn't know, the hat moved.
All the students gasped and the wrinkled, brown thing stretched up a little taller and two of the wrinkles widened into what looked remarkably like eyes.
That big crease opened and the hat began to sing:
Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
You top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning for use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
David sighed. "You just have to try on the hat. I'm going to kill Happy, he told me it was painful."
Professor McGonagall held out a long scroll, tilting her head to peer over her spectacles at the students.
"When I call out your name, come forward to be sorted."
She called out several names and two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw joined their new housemates at the longtables. Then it was Mary Margaret's turn. She bounced up the steps, a bright smile on her face as she picked up the hat and put it on.
Almost immediately the hat cried, "Gryffindor!"
Somewhere in the crowd, someone scoffed. It sounded a lot like Mary Margaret's unpleasant cousin.
More students went up. Slytherin got its first student. A pair of twins named Cassidy—a boy and a girl—joined Gryffindor. There were more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
And then Professor McGonagall called out, "Jones, Killian!"
A hush fell over the entire room. He felt all of the teachers' eyes on him as he walked up the three steps, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't trip. No one said anything, but their thoughts were loud and clear. There's that poor Jones boy. Shame about his mother. Just think what she must have put him through. He's lucky he didn't fair worse.
Killian swallowed as he picked up the hat, lifting his chin as he looked out at the other students. And then they were gone because the big hat blocked out everyone but the front row of first years.
"Oh," a soft voice murmured in his ear. "Oh, you're a tough one to place, aren't you?"
Killian stiffened.
"Quite the conundrum," the hat whispered in his ears. "You've the wit for Ravenclaw. The cunning for Slytherin." The hat hummed, seemingly oblivious to the way Killian's blood turned to ice at those words. "You'd do well in either. But there's more to you than that. You've been through a bit, haven't you? Brave and loyal, too. Stuck by your mother, even when you felt out of our depth." The hat hummed again. "What house? What house?"
An hour ago, he knew that answer to that question. An hour ago, he would have crossed his fingers and thought, Hufflepuff please with all his might. Liam had been in Hufflepuff. That was the proof Killian had needed to know that Hufflepuff was the best house. He had been so sure, until…
He glanced down, catching sight of blonde curls below the hat's brim. He thought of how Emma stepped in, defended him without knowing him, stood up to someone bigger than both of them because she saw a boy in trouble. He didn't know which house was best, he only knew that he wanted to be in whatever house she was in.
"Well, I think it's best I put you in...GRYFFINDOR!" the hat roared.
Killian clapped his hands over his ears, but as the hat was still on his head, that didn't help one jot. He shoved the thing off and hurried down the stairs, relieved to find that Mary Margaret had budged some other girl down the bench to make room for him. She beamed as he slid into his seat.
Soon it was David's turn. He jumped up from the stool, whooping as he joined Killian and Margaret. His twin mounted the steps with flaming ears and dirty looks at the Gryffindor table. David cried out in dismay when the hat place his brother in Slytherin. James didn't spare him a second glance as he took his place at the green clad table.
Killian picked at his ratty sweater as he waited for Emma to take her turn with the hat. The tables began to fill up, each house gaining students on a more or less equal measure.
"Not surprised about that one," Mary Margaret said when her cousin took her place at the Slytherin table with her two friends.
And finally it was Emma's turn.
If the room fell silent when Killian's name was called, it was completely the opposite with Emma.
"Swan," people whispered.
"The Emma Swan?"
"Look, look, the scar...It is her!"
She looked a little green as she sat perfectly still on the stool. The hat fell over her eyes as it had with nearly everyone else. Killian's stomach turned queasy as they waited. One minute. Two.
"GRYFFINDOR!" The word echoed through the room, cutting straight through all the whispers.
The entire Gryffindor table surged to its feet as Emma popped the hat off and practically ran to join Killian, David, and Mary Margaret, a bright smile stretched across her face. She hugged each of them, before sliding in with the others.
The hall fell silent again. Professor Dumbledore stood at the head table, his hands raised.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said. "Before we begin, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Enjoy your dinner." With a flourish he sat back down.
Emma leaned in, her eyes on David. "Is he a bit mad?"
An older blonde boy with a striking resemblance to David spoke up. "Mad? Course he is, all the best geniuses are. In't that right, Leroy?" He elbowed the boy next to him with a conspiratorial grin.
"Completely off his rocker," Leroy said, a little too loudly.
Killian winced, expecting to see nasty looks from the students around them, but everyone seemed to pay little heed to the loud boy's words.
The conversation cut off as all of the empty dishes at the center of the table filled with food: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and peppermint humbugs. Killian wondered at that last one. He glanced up and down the table, from the first years, still staring at the food, to the older students, who dug into the dishes with relish. Across the table from him, Emma met his gaze with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape and he knew he wasn't the only one that had never seen this much food.
Having her here made him feel less alone.
Trading conspiratorial glances, they both reached to fill their plates at the same time.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been following this story so far. I'm so excited to finally be sharing it with you. And this is the chapter that started it all! Anyone who knows me knows I'm very firmly set on my Killian is a Dark Hufflepuff theory (aka a HUfflepuff pushed past their limit), but of course, once I thought of that I came up with the scene of him deciding, "I want to be in HER house". And so we have, beautiful, loyal, Baby!Killian following Emma Swan as we all know he always will.
A note about next week's chapter: I do not know if I'm going to be able to get it up on Sunday. I will do my very, VERY best but unfortunately there is no scheduler on my site. I will, however, have it scheduled to go up on tumblr Sunday morning. If you want to look for it there, search "thegladelf" and you'll find me. Again, I will try, but I'll be out of town, so I don't know how much access I'll have to my computer.