Entry 2,
1st September 1938,
Boy's Dormitory,
Hogwarts:
My situation has not improved.
Burke and Abigor talked incessantly the entire journey, and I was too furious to attempt sleep. I was not able to block out the shuddering sounds of the tracks below us, nor the shrieking children that kept running past our compartment. Begrudgingly, I decided to flip through the textbooks that had been stuffed into my bags, though even at a glance I can see that Father has already taught us such basic theory and spellwork. I can not begin to fathom why Abigor would agree to join Burke in a school with such annoying and incompetent humans.
By the time the train finally stopped, the sun had already gone down. Getting off the train was as traumatising as getting on; packs of blood bags running around like hairless apes with giant luggage that kept hitting my ankles. At the very least, we were escorted by a fellow non human - Hagrid the half giant, if I remember correctly (which naturally I have). The boats were mildly enjoyable, but only because I like the sea. And only mildly.
When we finally entered the damn castle, some Professor with a fading ginger beard and hideous robes greeted us then made us wait outside in the freezing cold entrance hall. Abigor and Burke had spent the entire boat ride gossiping about houses and whatnot. As if that matters. From the sounds of it, whatever sorting device would likely recognise my brother and I as not belonging here, then we would be pointed to the nearest fire place to go home!
But when has my life ever been so easy? As was my luck, I had to wait while a dozen kids tested out a dusty, poorly sown pile of leather and my feet hurt. Burke got put in the green one. Abigor cheered embarrassingly loudly. However I had the shock of my life when my name was called!
How was that possible? Were there detection and identity wards that simply updated the list of names with whomever entered the castle? I was prepared to stand exactly where I was but Abigor had to make a huge fuss and push me forward. Well, I had to save face, you see. Ended up with Burke in the green house as well. Joy.
I ended up sitting with the twat for the purpose to block off the other brats at the table; Abigor joined shortly on my otherside and to my distaste attracted all the attention to the three of us as he prattled on the entire feast. At the very least, the food was acceptable. One firstie looked like he really needed it, all skin and bones, and almost as pale as myself and Abigor. Must be a muggleborn.
When we were finally permitted to leave the hall, I tried to drag Abigor in the direction of the way back to the boats, but some swotty 'Prefect' shepherded us back into formation. I was stuck in the herd all the way down into the bowls of the admittedly impressive castle until we finally reached the den of snakes. At the very least, I approve of the decor. Can you imagine having to live in the yellow house's common room?
And so here I find myself, Diary. At the very least I have claimed the bed by the window. No point unpacking, Father will likely storm the place in the morning, though Abigor seems to think we are untouchable just because a green tie has been magicked around our neck in a perfect Winsor.
I don't want to be here. The sheer smell of so many humans is revolting. Burke and my brother thankfully exist to be a buffer to the other boys, but now they've gone over to loudly chat and gossip. Abigor tried to drag me into it, but with a good snarl he let it go. One of the other human boys gave out a good squeak at the very least. Funnily enough, they seemed to be a little scared of a vampire fledgling like myself. There is one other boy who sits alone his bed, opposite me. It's the ill looking fellow; keeps reverentially flipping through his textbooks and warily eying the other boys. Sickie (as I shall dub thee) also has a habit of staring at me with something rather similar to the way he looks at his books. I suppose the novelty of superior lifeforms and what muggles assume is myth is quite fascinating.
Yours,
Daegen Gallow, son of Diabolos John Gallow.
