Lucas handed Buttermilk back to me as the train gradually came to a stop. I followed Russ onto the station platform, eventually running into Calli and Mae.
"Just go over to Professor Littletree and the other first years," Calli ruffled my hair, "She'll lead you inside. Good luck, little buddy."
"Thanks!" I said, handing her Buttermilk in her cage and going where directed. The crowd at this point was very small, only about five of us standing around the professor. I glanced around a little, eventually finding a girl who looked very very lost. She was small, definitely five ish inches shorter than me. And her black hair looked incredibly thick..
"Hey," I said, making her start a little, "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah," She stuttered, her eyes locked on me, "I'm, uh, lost.."
"Are you a first year?"
"Yes.."
"Then you can just stick with me!" I smiled at her, "Do you have any friends here?"
"No," She looked down a bit, "I don't."
"I'll be your friend," I offered.
She perked up, "You will?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Cool!" she hesitated, "What exactly do friends do?"
"Keep each other company."
"Like.. kinda like a not-alone-buddy?"
I blinked. "Uh.. yeah, I guess. Not Alone Buddies." She giggled, smiling wide now. "What's your name, Not Alone Buddy?"
"I'm Ayva," She said, "What's yours?"
"Keith," I stuck my hand out to shake hers. "It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Not Alone Buddy!"
We talked for a couple minutes longer before Professor Littletree started walking towards the school. It was very foggy. Like, a lot of fog. Ayva ended up asking why there was so much and I had to explain the whole keeping-it-from-the-No-Maj thing.
One of the most common misconceptions is that American wizards don't live amongst/engage with No-Maj. We do. You might even be able to say that we live more in harmony than the British do with their No-Maj (they call them 'muggles', don't they?). Not a lot of American people actually have problems with No-Maj, but you get your fair share of racists anyways. It is America, after all. It's actually not uncommon to find wizards born from No-Maj, like Ayva and myself.
Oh yeah, for anyone who's still unclear, I'm adopted. My bio parents were both non-magical, Dad's in federal prison for things I won't get into and Mom's dead. I was taken in by the Octobers at around six or seven, so I've only been with them a couple years.
"What house do you want to be in?" Ayva asked as we got closer to the castle.
"I'm not entirely sure," I said, "My brothers think I'm a Thunderbird, but I think I'm more of a Pukwudgie."
"Me too," she nodded, "Being a healer sounds better than being an adventurer anyways."
I heard a small snicker from behind us. I turned my head to see who it was, and a boy with black hair quickly turned his head away. I think he was listening to us. I turned back to Ayva, opening my mouth to continue.
"Alright, first years!" Professor Littletree exclaimed, "Who's ready to be sorted?"