Chapter Three
Neville was quite pleased with himself. It wasn't often that he got to be in this position, but this night he felt smug, self-assured, and, most importantly, one step ahead of the famous Golden Trio. He knew which houses Rose and Albus had been sorted into, and unless they had sent owls, their parents didn't.
He chuckled to himself, but then quickly stopped. He'd been laughing out loud randomly while wiping down tables, and some of their customers were starting to give him odd looks.
"Hannah, love, when did Ginny say?" he shouted towards the bar. Although The Leaky Cauldron's dinner crowd was thinning out, it was Friday night, meaning there were plenty of witches and wizards already streaming through the doors to settle in for the night. Business had picked up in the years since Hannah started running the place.
"Should be any minute now, Nev!"
Neville craned his neck to check the entrance from Diagon Alley for the hundredth time but only saw Lilith and Benji come in. Hannah had asked them to take the night shift so she and Neville could spend time with their friends; although, she and Neville would help out until the four arrived. It wasn't exactly a tradition, per se, but Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione usually made it a point to visit Neville and Hannah at The Leaky Cauldron one night on the first weekend of term when Hogwarts started up in September each year. His and Hannah's children would already be in bed, and their friends' children would stay the night at Molly and Arthur's house. It was a night to relax and remember the good times they'd had in school. And even though much of it had been hard, Neville thought the good memories were all the sweeter for the hardships they'd faced.
Now that Neville was the Herbology professor at Hogwarts, and they all had children that were attending Hogwarts – or would be in the future – this would also be a night to talk about their children and catch up on any important school developments. This year, namely, the Sorting. Neville chuckled again and a witch sitting at the nearest table glared at him warily. He quickly sobered up and moved on to wipe down the next dirty table.
"Neville!"
A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder, startling him so that he knocked over an empty glass on the table he was wiping. Before it could hit the ground, however, he caught it deftly in one hand and set it back on the table.
"Oh, Ronald…."
He heard another voice behind him and smirked as he turned around. "Not as clumsy as I used to be, eh, Ron? Alright, Hermione? Alright, Harry? Ginny?" A wide grin covered his face at the sight of his friends.
"Hello, Neville!" Ginny gave her brother a playful shove and then smiled brilliantly at Neville. "I don't think you've been clumsy once since my sixth year," she said, giving him a wink.
A shadow flickered across Neville's face, but he recovered quickly and teased back, "Well maybe just once."
They all laughed at that, and then Neville pointed them to a quieter table near the back before going to find Hannah and grab them all some Butterbeers – "On the house, if you want to hear anything about Hogwarts."
They spent the next half an hour catching up on each other's lives since the last time they had all been together – only a few weeks previously – and swapping tall tales about the antics of their children. (To be fair, Harry, Ron, and Neville told the tales while Ginny, Hermione, and Hannah corrected them at every turn.) Inevitably though, talk turned to Hogwarts and the children who had just begun the new term.
Neville leaned back in his chair, with his arm around Hannah's shoulders, and smiled smugly as he listened to Ron tell a story about their first year at school. He also observed the faces of his four friends. Albus was Harry and Ginny's second child to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so they didn't look too bad off. Ginny was as confident as ever, and her warm, brown eyes were lit with a fire that told Neville she would defend any house Albus was put into. Harry appeared to be a little unsure, however, and Neville wondered if Harry might already doubt that his son got sorted into Gryffindor. That was interesting…. Of course, Neville himself had initially assumed Albus would be in the same house as his parents and older brother. Now that he had been placed in Slytherin though, as the boy's godfather Neville could understand why. He had always been a quietly ambitious child. And where James would rush into situations, Albus waited and watched and calculated the costs and rewards before acting. Yes, Slytherin was a good match.
Neville had just taken a swallow of his Butterbeer when he turned to look at Ron and Hermione and almost choked on his drink. The others were too caught up in Ron's story to notice, but Hannah shot him an odd look and he grinned sheepishly at her. He had found the attitudes of Ron and Hermione quite an amusing shock compared to Harry and Ginny's current countenances. Rose was their first to go to Hogwarts, and they had a decidedly nervous look about them. To anyone who did not know Ron personally, he looked like he was just boasting about his exploits in school. But Neville had lived with Ron for six years, and he knew better. He might talk brave, but Neville could tell he was worried by the way he kept jiggling his knee and the color creeping up his neck. And Hermione had an almost manic smile plastered to her face that abruptly reminded Neville of studying for OWLs and NEWTs. He shuddered involuntarily.
"Don't worry, Hermione. I'm sure Rose will do alright," Ron declared, the source of all wisdom. "Unless of course she's like you, attracting that troll that Harry and I saved you from," he teased without mercy.
"Ron!" It came out as a shocked squeal, and Neville ducked his head to hide a grin from Hermione.
"Now, come on –" Hannah interjected before Ginny's hand could come into contact with Ron's arm. "How 'bout it, Nev? Why don't you put them all out of their misery?" Her eyes sparkled in amusement.
"Well…."
"Oh, Neville, please do!" Hermione burst out, clutching Ron's arm.
Harry still looked a tad uncertain, but he laughed at Hermione's earnest appeal and said, "We have been waiting, Neville."
Neville clasped his hands in front of him on the table and affected an air of seriousness. "I suppose I should tell you that…that Rose…." Hermione paled, and Neville cracked a smile, finishing, "Rose is in Gryffindor!"
Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, Hermione let out a nervous giggle of relief, and Ron slumped slightly in his seat, smiling bemusedly.
"Well of course, where – where else would she be?" Ron tried to recover quickly but still appeared a bit dazed.
"What about Albus, Nev?" asked Ginny.
"Obviously now you're going to tell us Albus got the same." Ron's tone of bravado was back.
"Oh, they'll love being in the same house together, won't they Ginny?" Hermione's previous nervousness had gone completely now that she knew Rose was in Gryffindor, and she smiled brightly at her friend and sister-in-law.
Hannah spoke up, "Neville…."
Hermione's smile faltered a little, and Harry and Ginny stared expectantly at Neville. He thought Ron almost looked like a nutter the way he was still beaming – some things hadn't changed in the past nineteen years.
Suddenly Neville didn't feel quite so smug.
"Albus was sorted into Slytherin."
There was a moment of stunned silence where the chaos of a Friday night at The Leaky Cauldron abruptly came back into focus, and then Ron, Hermione, and Harry all reacted at once.
"Bloody hell!"
"What?!"
"Oh, Merlin…."
Neville raised his hands in defense. "Now just think about it for a moment. I admit I was a bit surprised as well, but…. Can't you see it?"
Ginny reacted all of the sudden, as if what her friends had said had just registered. "What do you mean 'bloody hell,' Ronald?"
"Ginny! You can't be serious, it's – it's Slytherin!" Ron sputtered.
"And what of it?" she retorted hotly. Her face was slowly turning the color of her hair, and she was glaring at Ron fiercely, but Neville couldn't help smiling at her. Of course Ginny would defend Albus. Neville wouldn't be surprised if Ginny defended him for burning down the castle.
"Ginny and I did name him after Snape, Ron."
"I suppose if the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin there must be a good reason…." Always logical, Hermione was, though a small, confused frown creased her forehead.
"You do have a niece already in Slytherin, and I think you've survived that so far, Ron," Hannah joked.
Harry cleared his throat, and stated firmly, "Well, I'm quite proud of Albus. We've all noticed his tendency to wait and watch a situation before acting, and he's very ambitious when it comes to the things he cares about. I think he'll do very well in Slytherin."
Ginny interlaced her fingers with Harry's on the table in a show of solidarity and said, "I agree with Harry. We will be behind him one hundred percent." Her face was returning to its normal shade, but she still shot Ron a dirty look.
Ron crossed his arms, pouting. Hermione straightened her shoulders and gave Harry and Ginny a supportive smile and nod. Hannah hid a laugh behind her mug of Butterbeer. Neville grinned broadly and stretched his legs out, leaning back in his chair.
He was still quite pleased with himself.
Al Potter stuck his tongue between his teeth and concentrated very, very hard on drawing a straight line at the approximate distance he needed. He left a little space, then lined up his quill and began to draw another straight line. He finished the line he needed and let out the breath he had been holding.
Dad had said that making the Marauder's Map had been one of Grandfather's greatest accomplishments, and now Al understood why. How long had it taken him to draw a map of the entirety of Hogwarts? Al was still only on the Ground Floor and he had been working on his map all morning! Now it was after lunch, and he was just going to have to be more selective – sketch out only the parts that he needed to get to class, and fill in details later. This was taking way too long – there was no way that he would have it finished by Monday.
Of course, this would all be much simpler if James would just let him borrow the Marauder's Map for the first week. James, while unlikely to do that on any occasion, would be much less likely to do so now that Al was in Slytherin. Al had chanced a look over at the Gryffindor table during the feast – Victoire had caught his eye and waved, but James had steadily ignored him.
From this point on, Al considered his friendship with his brother (what little there was of it to begin with) to be finished. He expected that from now on he would be tolerated, but never a choice companion. Now that Al was a Slytherin … well, if James barely spoke to their relations in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, how much less likely was he to speak to a relation in Slytherin?
So Albus was setting out to make his own map. No matter how stupid his brother was determined to be, Al was equally determined to not be made a fool of on the first day of classes. Dad had told him about his first day of Hogwarts – how he and Uncle Ron had gotten lost and been late to Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and of all of the witches Al had met, she was the scariest!
Al was not going to be late to any class. That meant that he couldn't get lost. Hence, the map.
Al peeked around the corner of the next classroom quietly. No one there.
He stepped inside, pushing the door further open with a long creak, and looked around. Birds, cats, toads, and a variety of other small creatures lined the sides of the room in cages. Must be transfiguration – at least one of them. He seemed to remember there being several. He sat down at one of the desks and began to add the room to the sketch. He was just finishing the last wall when the door creaked open again, and Al spun quickly to face the intruder.
Scorpius Malfoy's pale face hovered in the doorway, clearly just as surprised to see Albus as Albus was to see Scorpius. The two first year Slytherins had seen each other briefly last night, and slightly more this morning at breakfast, but neither had been particularly sociable.
At that moment, Al noticed the paper and Ever-Inking Quill clasped in Scorpius' long, pale fingers. On the paper, he saw only a quick sketch of the outline of the Slytherin common room before Scorpius tucked it behind his back and began to back out of the room.
"No, wait!" Al called. Scorpius paused. Al hesitated.
"Are you making a map?"
Scorpius opened his mouth, a clever and snarky retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but then he also hesitated.
"What do you care what I'm doing?" he asked at last, defensive.
"Nothing," said Al. "I don't care. I was just going to say that I'm making a map, too, so if you were making one I thought we could work together so that it goes faster. But if you're not, it doesn't matter."
Al turned back to his own map, feigning indifference. He listened carefully. He heard the shuffling of feet, the creaking of the door back and forth, and a slow release of breath.
"You mean it?" Scorpius questioned tentatively, hope edging his voice. "You're making a map, too?"
"Of course," Al confirmed. He shot Scorpius his brightest, warmest grin. "I'm not interested in being late to class, especially not on the first day."
Scorpius' shoulders eased as he relaxed and leaned against the threshold. "Me neither! How much have you done so far?"
"Most of the ground floor. I think I need to refocus and only do the basic sketches we'll need to get to class, though, because it's taken me all morning."
"I know! I spent all morning sketching the dungeons, and I just gave up and decided to try to find Transfiguration."
"Well, you found it! I was just putting it down. Are there any other rooms on the ground floor, d'you think?"
Scorpius fully entered the room at last, pulling his class schedule out of his pocket and laying it on the table next to Al's map.
"No, I think Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts are on the third floor or fifth floor or something like that. Potions is in the dungeons, Flying is on the grounds, and Astronomy will be up in a tower somewhere, though I'm not sure which one."
"So," Al grinned mischievously, "where do you want to start?"
It was just past eight on Saturday evening, and James Potter was lounging on the bed in his dormitory regaling his roommates with the various adventures of his summer – near-death Quidditch experiences, casual dinner party with the Minister of Magic, etc. Ever cool and collected, his friends gathered round him pretending they weren't interested – well, except for Barnaby Bascombe-Briggs, who was incapable of any sort of pretense and hung on to every word he said. The perpetually messy boy was sitting on a pile of his own dirty clothes (how he had dirty clothes on the second day of term was a question which no one chose to ask, much less answer), gazing up James with a worshipful, awestruck expression on his freckled face, putting light into his pale blue eyes. James liked to pretend he didn't mind it, but secretly he loved it and always put in a couple of extra adjectives just to see Barney's face light up.
Israel and Aldo, his two best-best mates, were on their own beds rolling their eyes occasionally and smiling. Israel was always calm, cool, and collected. One could tell a story about breaking into Gringotts and stealing a dragon and Israel would just blink, smile, nod, and make a polite "hmm" noise. Aldo was easily excited, but he had also heard all of these stories before – he'd been in half of them! He and James had spent half of the summer flooing back and forth between the Potters' house in Hertfordshire and the Conleys' house in South Yorkshire.
The last gent who made up their party was Harry Wood, a bookish sort of bloke with black, wire-frame glasses and an almost terrifying amount of spots. He was huddled up on his bed, lanky limbs strewn across the bedspread at odd angles, with his nose stick in a book – as usual. The other three boys that co-habited that dormitory were down in the common room, enjoying the warmth of fire and friends.
It was as James was in the midst of telling his mates about the most death-defying stunt of the summer that a knock on the door startled them, sending Barnaby and his pile of clothes slipping across the floor as he struggled to his feet.
"I hope you lot are decent in there!"
If they weren't, it was too late. The door opened, and in the threshold stood Victoire Weasley in all of her gorgeous, golden-haired glory. Barnaby slipped and hit the floor with a loud thud and a yelp, Aldo's eyes went wide, and Harry simply gaped.
"Excuse us, boys, but we were hoping to have a moment with James," she said sweetly, pushing the door open even wider for the boys to see a tiny, red-headed first year with worried eyes.
Israel calmly stood and ambled out of the room, the candles casting a warm glow on his dark skin as he smiled politely to Victoire and Rose on the way out. Harry rolled off of the bed and followed, barely taking his nose out of his book. Aldo vaulted athletically off of his bed, shook his chestnut hair of his eyes with a jaunty toss of his head, and sauntered past Victoire with a wink, nearly running into Rose. Soon only Barnaby was left, blinking up at them from the floor.
Victoire cleared her throat, giving him a significant look, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, barely making it to a full upright position before he was out the door and stumbling down the stairs. Victoire shut the door after him, and James, not quite so cocky now, swallowed hard. Victoire Weasley was a formidable lady. She was the sweetest, nicest girl … until you got her mad. Then you remembered that she had Veela heritage because Merlin, the girl had talons!
Victoire gracefully seated herself on the end of James' bed, and Rose cautiously popped up on the other side, grasping the bedpost for support.
"How have your first couple days been, James?" she asked sweetly. Most people would have relaxed, but James knew this trick.
"Fine, thanks. What do you want?" he demanded with a rather grumpy edge to his voice. Rose's eyes went wide. Victoire kept smiling.
"Ah. So it still bothers you that Al is in Slytherin, does it?" she asked. Her voice screamed sympathetic, but James kept waiting for the hammer to fall. That, of course, didn't stop him from speaking his mind.
"So what if it does? Doesn't it bother you? He's a Slytherin, a traitor! He was supposed to be in Gryffindor! Or, barring that, at least a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff! They're harmless! But a Slytherin? A damn Slytherin?"
Victoire slapped his leg, the only part of his body within her reach, and gave him a look.
"Watch your language! And so what? Dom is a Slytherin as well, that doesn't make her evil."
"Yeah right, Dom is the most evil person I know," James snapped back again. "Just because she's your sister. She's vicious. I knew Al was stupid, but I didn't know he was vicious, too!"
"Al is not vicious," Rose piped up, her eyes lit up with anger. "He is not!"
"He's a Slytherin, Rose, and you can't trust Slytherins!"
"That's doesn't even make sense and you know it!" Rose bit back. "You're the one who is being stupid. Al isn't any more or less than he was a week ago – just because he had a new title doesn't make him a new person. People don't change that quickly."
"Well, maybe he's been like that all along! He's been fooling us for years!"
"Oh?" Victoire chimed in, raising an eyebrow delicately. "Been plotting this since his cradle, has he? All of those years pretending to a nice boy just so he could be sorted into Slytherin and betray you. Yes, that makes perfect sense, James."
"He's my brother! Why don't you just leave it alone?"
"Because he's our cousin, and my friend," Rose shot back. "And you're being stupid."
"Gee, I'm so insulted," James snarled. "A tetchy first-year just called me stupid."
"He's not in a mood to be reasoned with," Victoire observed at last, gracefully rising from the bed and giving him a look that would scorch wood. "Come on, Rose. There are more intelligent people that we could be spending our time with. He'll regret it eventually."
James wanted to retort, but decided that was childish and instead kept his mouth firmly shut as his cousins stalked out of the room, Rose looking rather eerily like her older cousin in the dim candlelight. Merlin, women!
Dozens of books lay stacked in small towers around the professor's desk at the front of the classroom. About a dozen more were in various piles on top of the desk, and rolls of parchment and a few quills were scattered on top of it as well. And in the midst of it all Rosalind Alcott sat at the desk, her desk, in some of her more casual ice blue robes, poring over lesson plans and her notes and schedule for the week ahead. Normally Rosalind kept all of her belongings organized, honestly, but today was Sunday afternoon. The Sunday afternoon before the first day of term. The Sunday afternoon before the first day of term of her first year of teaching.
Rosalind ran a hand quickly through her already tousled blonde hair.
She was ready though. Of course she was. Her lesson plans for the next month for all of her classes had been completed weeks ago. She had begun preparing them as soon as Professor McGonagall – Minerva – had hired her in June. Today she was really only just double-checking her plans to make sure she hadn't missed anything important.
She hadn't.
Facing the students in the morning was not bothering her in the least. Why should it? She ran a hand through her hair again. The younger children would most likely not be able to tell even if she was nervous. And the older students would hopefully know well enough to treat her with respect, regardless. She just needed to be firm with them. So really, there was nothing to be bothered about. Rosalind felt calm, collected, and firmly confident in her plans and in her abilities as a professor.
Confident. Right…yes…that.
Rosalind sighed loudly – something else she "never" did – and stood up, stretching out the kinks in her back and rolling her head from side to side to loosen up. She straightened her robes and was about to begin organizing her classroom for the next day when –
"Are you ready for your very first day of teaching then?"
Her head snapped up so quickly she felt her neck crack, and she winced as she rubbed the sore spot, caught somewhere between calm indifference towards her visitor and fixing him with a glare. Ezra Stone. Leaning against the doorframe like it had been built there just for him. It was too early in her career to be making enemies, however, so her mother's nagging voice in her mind won out and she opted for a semblance of politeness.
"Yes, I believe I am. Sorry, but you've just startled me, you see."
His smirk was entirely too arrogant and, unfortunately, entirely too charming. Damn.
"I suppose I should have announced my presence earlier, but you did look rather absorbed in your work. I hope I didn't cause any permanent damage?" he asked and then winked at her.
Rosalind's polite smile faltered for a second before she replied, "No, no of course not. You – how long have you been watching me?" She paused a moment then added, "Surely I can't have been that fascinating?"
"You'd be surprised," he laughed. Rosalind resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kept smiling. Just barely.
Ezra began to make his way up the aisle between the desks toward her before she could stop him. Oh Merlin, he was practically strutting.
"Actually, Ezra," she cut in, just a little too loudly. "I really must get back to work. You see I have…." She gestured vaguely at the paperwork and books on and around her desk. "I still have work to do," she finished lamely.
He just kept walking though, and offered, "I can help you if you'd like? I'm already set for tomorrow, so I have plenty of time. And I'm sure you could use the extra time you would have if I helped."
Rosalind raised a hand in protest, ready to send him on his way. But then he flashed a disarming smile at her, and to her surprise, and slight exasperation, it worked!
"Well…well alright then, but –"
"You just put those lesson plans away and get your notes in order while I take care of the books." He had reached her desk by that point, and his hand rested on the pillar of books nearest him in front of the desk. "The books here on your desk go on the shelves behind you, am I right? And then these books on the floor get passed out amongst the desks, correct? I'm assuming they are schoolbooks that the students would not have been able to find in stock anymore at Flourish and Blotts. And if you'll let me see your seating charts, I'll whip up the name plates for you and put the ones for your first class out on the desks. I have a special charm I learned off of a special lady that lets you switch the names between each class with just a tap of your wand." He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "You do have seating charts, right? Since this is your first week with over three hundred new faces to remember?"
Rosalind was gobsmacked, completely and utterly. She stopped herself just in time from reaching up to see if her jaw had really dropped. Thank Merlin it hadn't.
Ezra's eyes were twinkling, no doubt laughing at her,
"You…."
"More than just a pretty face, eh?" he grinned knowingly.
Rosalind blushed and ducked her head slightly, graciously admitting her fault. "I would appreciate the help, thank you."
She found her seating charts for him, and they set about getting her classroom in order for the next day. Ezra told her both horror stories and humorous anecdotes from his first year of teaching as they worked, and Rosalind glanced up at him now and then, pausing to look longer than necessary when he wasn't paying attention. Slate blue eyes were shown off by the contrast of his thick, dark hair, and the skin around his eyes crinkled pleasantly when he smiled. And those dimples…. Rosalind shook her head and tried to focus more on the task at hand. It didn't help that his robes were open in front to reveal a well-tailored suit….
"We'll just have to wait and see how the first years do this year; although, I don't expect anything particularly brilliant, on the whole."
"What? Why?" She looked up to find Ezra putting the last name card in place – together they had finished preparing her classroom much faster than she would have alone.
"Well there aren't very many purebloods in the class this year, are there," he stated as if the answer was obvious.
Rosalind stared at him, too shocked by his answer to respond. She was a pureblood, herself, but she would not have gone so far as to declare the kind of sentiment he had just uttered – at least not so blatantly. Ezra didn't seem to notice her lack of response.
"Now that we've finished you have the rest of the evening to spend however you like," he continued, walking back towards her desk, teasing her with his smile.
"I – I suppose." She found her voice.
"Since I helped you out, would you care to return the favour?" Rosalind tilted her head to the side in question, and he went on, "Maybe have the House Elves bring dinner to my rooms, see what happens?" He winked at her. Again.
"Excuse me?" she gasped, suddenly angry. Ezra just kept smiling, irritating her even further. "I don't care for your implications, Professor Stone." To her chagrin, though, he laughed at her! "I think it's time for you to leave now." Her face was flushed, she could feel her cheeks burning.
"Oh, come now, love, don't –"
"Professor Stone, I am in earnest!"
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning then, Professor Alcott," he chuckled. And with that he turned around and casually strolled out of her classroom, completely unaffected by her outburst. Still laughing.
If only his robes weren't so loose in the b – no!
Rosalind sat down hard in her chair and practically growled in frustration. The man was absolutely infuriating.
She slammed her notebook closed for good measure.
Penelope Penniworth had no idea what to do with Sophie Turner.
When they had both been sorted into Hufflepuff, she had liked the look of her right away. She was very pretty, small, with a sweet demeanor and a shy smile. At first, she thought that was all it was – shyness. She hadn't spoken a word at the Welcome Feast, in spite of everyone introducing themselves and talking about their families. They had tried to be friendly to her. All of the girls were talking about their families – half-blood, Muggleborn, and pureblood alike – but still Sophie didn't say anything.
That night in the dormitory, the girls had been sharing all of their hopes and fears and secrets, but still she said nothing. Beatrice said how much she was looking forward to seeing the library, having heard all about it from her older sister, and Arabella has said how excited she was to learn to fly, since she was Muggleborn and never dreamed that she would actually be able to fly on a broomstick. Zoe and Tracy had been friends since childhood and were mostly excited about the teen magazines to which they subscribed. Cassandra, also a shy and quiet girl, had just quietly said how happy she was to be there. Sophie could have just said "me, too," and they all would have been delighted – but she just sat on her bed, watching them all with distant eyes.
Saturday was no different. Some of the older Hufflepuffs had volunteered to give them a tour of the castle, as per tradition on the first Saturday of term. They had all been very friendly, and Sophie had even seemed quite taken with one of the seventh year girls, Emma. (She was the chair of the Charms Club.) But even though Emma talked to her, and the other first years talked to her, Sophie still didn't say anything. Not in the library, where Beatrice went wide-eyed, or on the Quidditch Pitch, where Arabella practically jumped out of her skin with excitement.
And now, on Sunday, Penelope was completely baffled. Sophie hadn't said a word during breakfast. She'd barely even reacted when others spoke to her. Sophie was acting like she was the only first year – the only person scared or unsure of themselves. She practically jumped when people spoke to her! Did she not want to be a Hufflepuff or something?
Penelope related those thoughts to the other first year girls that evening, when they were sitting around the fire after dinner while Sophie was upstairs alone. It was concluded that they had all tried and failed to make friends with her. Cassie had meekly suggested that perhaps she was really, really scared, but she had quickly been shot down when all of the other girls agreed that they, too, had been scared, but had not let it stop them from being friendly to others. Nevertheless, they agreed that there wasn't really much of anything that they could do about it.
So it was decided. If Sophie wanted to be friends with them, she was welcome – but if she didn't, no one was going to force her to spend time with people she clearly didn't want to be with. They would leave her alone from now on. Maybe someday she'd open up, but if not … well, that was alright. Because the other six Hufflepuff first years were pretty happy with each other – they didn't really need a seventh, did they?