Before she knew it, September first had arrived. She was turning eleven in thirteen days, and term started that afternoon. Sarah buzzed around her room frantically, a kite cut adrift from its strings and floating aimlessly through the clouds. "Everything's here," Guin assured the woman, patting the trunk carefully. It was so stuffed with clothes and books and supplies that Guin had been forced to sit upon the monstrosity, while Sarah struggled with the clasps. Finally, however, the suitcase sat docilely enough on the bed, bulging ominously at the sides.

But how to move it? "Mobilius," whispered Angeline, pretending to pull the trunk along, while in reality it floated a barest half-millimeter from the ground. They made their way to the station in Angeline's black Z3, reserved for those occasions when she needed to travel in the Muggle world. It was a compact car: Sarah was forced to stay at home, for they could barely fit the trunk into the back seat. Angeline lowered the top as they sped along the highway, the wind whipping Guin's hair free of its tie, while her mother's curls floated around her head like a halo.

They breezed easily past the other cars on the lonely stretch of road, but entering London, were forced to slow. Stuck in a particularly complicated jam of vehicles, Angeline took some time to explain what Guinivere should do once they reached the station. "You lean on the railing between platforms nine and ten; make sure you're not seen.." It was not something she stressed about, she had been even younger when she went away to Shadehurst.

The platform at King's Cross was shoved full of people, packed together like sardines, and Guin did not think they could have managed to get through it without Angeline's enchanted trunk. They shoved through, finally reaching the barrier. "Watch a few people before you try—" Angeline began, then hissed quietly. Blinking, Guin saw that the boy from the robe shop, the dark haired one, had just vanished into Platform 9 3/4. Though why that would cause her mother to look so disgusted, Guin did not know. "Goodbye, Guinivere," Angeline said after a moment's pause, kissing the girl lightly on each cheek.

Taking a deep breath, Guin walked, leaned, and just as suddenly was confronted with a scarlet red train. The trunk, still enchanted, pulled easily along as Guin made her way towards the steam engine, lost in thought. Suddenly, shriek made her lose her concentration, as a small, black robed form barreled towards her. It was the girl from Diagon Alley, Rilla. "Guin!" she yelped, delighted. Some heads turned to stare and Guin flushed, looking at the smaller child.

"Hi, Rilla," she said, indicating that the other girl should follow her into the train. Together, the girls managed to fit their trunks into an empty compartment. It took some effort to get Rilla's Muggle suitcase into the overhead storage bin, but they managed after several minute's struggle. Rilla collapsed dramatically on her seat, her hand pressed in a theatrical manner to her forehead. Guin smiled, a barest quirk of the lips.

"Let's go see what some of the others are doing!" Rilla said, and Guin nodded her agreement. Together, they left the compartment, Rilla still speaking. "D' you know that boy we saw in the robe shop?" she whispered. When Guin stopped walking and stared blankly at her, she elaborated. "…The dark one. Guess who he is?"

"The Minister of Magic, apparently," Guin said, laughing, "From the way you're going on!"

"No, that's not it," Rilla continued, "Harry Potter."

"Really?" said Guin, interested in spite of herself. "I didn't know.. S'pose the scar was covered by his hair." That would be the boy Angeline had glared at – now it made sense to Guin, and she sighed softly.

They made their way through the hall, squirming to avoid running into other students and their heavy baggage. Rilla narrowly missed having her foot crushed by a wayward trunk, and spouted off a surprisingly varied vocabulary of curses. Guin looked at her friend in amazement, and more than a touch of amused indulgence. Suddenly, however, she actually did bump into someone, or rather, a pair of someones. "Terribly sorry," said Guin automatically, examining the bushy-haired girl and plump boy.

"Nothing to worry about," he said mournfully.

"What's wrong?" Rilla asked, glancing at the girl.

"Oh, Neville's lost Trevor." Noticing their uncomprehending stares, she grinned, showing a pleasant, buck-toothed smile. "His toad. I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom."

Guin glanced sideways at Rilla, who was already introducing them. "Rilla Jackson; she's Guin Marlowe. If we see the toad anywhere, we'll find you again, okay?" Neville nodded, looking as though he were about to cry.

Feeling awkward, Guin touched his arm lightly. "He'll turn up," she said, before continuing on her way. "I bet he's a Hufflepuff," she whispered to Rilla, as Hermione and Neville entered another compartment, keeping up the search for the missing Trevor. "Not that's a bad thing—" she started, than cut off as she saw the pale boy from the robe shop. "Oh great, it's Sunshine and Light," she whispered again. "Hi," Guin said warily, as Rilla chattered a cheerful introductory piece.

The boy blinked languidly, then stared at Rilla. "What, your brain doesn't work properly? Have to use your mouth, instead?" He ignored her and turned back to Guin, pallid eyes fixing upon hers. "You look like a decent enough sort," he said sarcastically, "What's your name? Mudblood or wizard?" Behind him, several paces away, was more evidence of de-evolution in process, two boys who looked distinctly ape-like.

"I'm Guinivere Marlowe," she said. "And it's too bad that all the inbreeding between purebloods resulted in a little stain like you."

"Oh, a smart one, are you?" the boy said with a sneer. It seemed to be his usual expression, or at least, one used often. It appeared on his face like clockwork, regular and sure. Unfortunately for him, it made his face look rather rodent like in repose, and Guin fought back a smirk of her own.

"Obviously more intelligent than you, Mister…?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I'd suggest, Marlowe, not causing any trouble at Hogwarts." He pushed past them, to be followed by the monkey-ish boys, who seemed to have grown tired of lurking ominously in the corner. It was evident no one was frightened of them, and that made the prowling menace comical instead of scary. Both Guin and Rilla made faces at their retreating backs, but just then, a whistle sounded and the train lurched. They passed Malfoy again, as he walked in the opposite direction. "Your mother'd be ashamed of the company you're keeping, Marlowe."

"Your mother?" Rilla asked as they sat down.

"She doesn't like Muggles very much," Guin said carefully.

A dark head suddenly popped into the compartment, harassed and tired looking. It was a boy, dragging a suitcase, a boy with aristocratic features and gray eyes. Messy black hair with a slight curl to it covered his head, and he had a well-shaped, thin-lipped mouth. Despite the tired look, there was a sardonic gleam in his eyes that reminded Guin entirely too much of herself. "Do you mind if I intrude on your presence? I can't seem to find a space anywhere else," he drawled, executing a small bow.

"No," they said in unison. He sat, smirked, and glanced out the window. Looking back to Guin, he examined her closely for several minutes before speaking. "Is your name Marlowe?"

"Everyone seems to know me," Guin said sadly, "I don't even have time to make a reputation of myself. Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," he replied, infuriating smirk still on his face.

"What?" Guin demanded, piqued. "You can't ask a question like that and then not answer mine!"

Rilla hid her face in her hands and burrowed deeper into the seats. She had seen Guin's temper in action before. Peering through the screen of her fingers, she was confronted by equally sardonic faces, locked in a duel already. "Don't hurt each other," was all she said, shaking her head sadly. It looked to be the sort of thing that could erupt randomly into violence. They were watching each other as the boy spoke, and Guin's lip twitched upward.

"I can, for I just did," he pointed out.

With a sniff, Guin turned away and stared out the window, watching the countryside streak by in a blur. The boy looked too, and things were quiet, for a time. Suddenly a trio of odious looking heads poked their way into the tiny room. Guin raised an eyebrow, as one of the boys was nursing a bleeding finger. "Shove off, Malfoy, no one wants to see or smell you right now."

He didn't bother to reply, for he and the gray-eyed boy were staring at each other, hatred quite evident on their features. Confused, Guin glanced at Rilla, who whispered, "There's an awful lot of sneering going on today.." She nodded, and watched the scene before her.

"You've moved down in the world, L'Argent," Malfoy said, "Hanging around with Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers."

"Dream your little delusions, Malfoy," L'Argent said cheerfully, "You don't even know why your father hates mine, do you? Bet he was too embarrassed to tell you." Malfoy was rescued from answering: the train stopped and the entire school piled onto the platform at the wizard station. The boats that they clambered into were small, and held only four children. Guin and Rilla were stuck with the boy L'Argent, and another boy who seemed almost as chatty as Rilla. They talked excitedly as Guin and the other boy glared at each other.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid rumbled, and she said something in reply. Guin couldn't make out what it was, for the other first years were talking in a low buzz, tittering nervously. They were next packed into a tiny chamber, listening to the school talk as they waited for the Sorting. Both Guin and Rilla listened attentively as she gave a rehearsed, canned speech about the different houses, and how points worked.. "Wish she'd get on with it," Guin whispered, earning a sharp glance from McGonagall.

She left, and through the walls came gliding what could only be ghosts. Rilla squeaked and had her arm clasped in a death grip, and Guin extracted it gently. "They won't hurt you. See? Ghosts just go right through things.." Her point was proven as McGonagall returned, waving her hand at the ghosts, moving them along. The ghosts vanished through the next wall as though it didn't exist. Once they were gone, Rilla began to breathe again. "See?" Guin repeated softly.

They were next pushed into the Great Hall, which seemed a scene from a fairy tale. Everything glittered, from candles to stars to faces to ghosts. Guin had known somewhat as to what she should expect, but the reality took her breath away. The ceiling, a length of black velvet with perfect jeweled stars, caught her attention for only a second before she was pushed ahead. All the first years were huddled together, drawing comfort from proximity – however, she saw one orange-headed boy with glasses reading a book, who stood apart from the others.

Guin watched silently as the Hat began to sing – she could only hope to be in Slytherin. Hopehopehope. Not Hufflepuff. Not Hufflepuff. But she wouldn't be Sorted for some time yet; "Abbot, Hannah" was approaching the stool clumsily – "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. With a grin, Guin nudged Rilla with her elbow. "I knew it," she whispered. Next was "Bones, Susan," and Guin whispered again, "I bet you anything she's a Hufflepuff, too."

Sure enough, Bones, Susan, was indeed Sorted into that house. Guin shot a "told-you-so" expression at Rilla, who shrugged. They spent a good quarter of an hour guessing which house the students would be placed in, until the hat called, "Freeman, Winston." The red-haired boy had to be nudged and pointed to the stool, looking annoyed that his reading had been interrupted. Winston Freeman placed the hat on his head, but hardly had it sat there, it yelled, "RAVENCLAW!" The hall erupted into laughter as the boy promptly buried his nose into his book once more.

Finally, McGonagall called, "Jackson, Amarilla," and forward went Rilla, blushing at the use of her full name. She sat for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, before the hat finally pronounced, "GRYFFINDOR!" Guin clapped and cheered with the rest, though a little disappointed that she and her friend would not likely be in the same house. Rilla took off the hat, looking surprised, and walked to the Gryffindor table.

Lost in thought, Guin lost track of things again until "L'Argent, Mikael," was called. So that was the gray-eyed boy's name. He moved forward with a smirk, placing the hat calmly on his head. "SLYTHERIN," the hat said after a second's pause. Mikael handed the hat to Longbottom, Neville. Guin couldn't help but snicker at the name, though she hoped that he'd found his toad.

Malfoy, Draco, was a Slytherin, but that was no surprise. "Muggle-lover," he whispered, as Marlowe, Guinivere, approached the stool. Ignoring him, she put on the hat, staring at the blackness that appeared in front of her. She wasn't nervous, but the hat smelled slightly of mothballs.

"Hmm," said the hat thoughtfully, "Interesting; very nice. Ambition, lots of ambition, and courage.. Oh yes. Bravery galore. Intelligent, too. Not hard-working enough for Hufflepuff, and not intellectual enough for Ravenclaw – Gryffindor, perhaps?"

Not Gryffindor! she thought frantically.

"Not Gryffindor, eh? Slytherin will suit you well, then. You'll fit right into SLYTHERIN." The voice boomed out in the hall, and Guin removed the hat and smiled.