September 1st, 1991
"Je suis désolé (I'm sorry), Fleur," eleven-year-old Aurore uttered as she allowed the little tabby to nuzzle against her finger from inside the carrier. "It isn't a long ride to Hogwarts. Be brave for me."
Fleur meowed in response.
Aurore could understand her fear of being cooped up, heading to someplace new. She was scared too; she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts a month ago, a boarding school for magic, and yet she was no more prepared than she had been the moment she opened the letter.
There's no turning back now.
She was already at the train station, waiting to board the Hogwarts Express. Plus her parents had paid so much for her supplies; potions, textbooks, and such. Aurore even had a wand made of maple wood that seemed to be made for her, even though she met Mr. Ollivander, the owner of the shop, the same day she bought her wand.
It was strange. Magical energy erupted from it, leaving her breathless, a reaction Mr. Ollivander said was different for all witches and wizards, but meant the same thing; that it had chosen her. This was all very new to her.
An acceptance into Hogwarts was meant to be exciting; both her parents were thrilled when they attended and yet Aurore was a nervous wreck. She spent 5 years in a homeschool program, being taught by her mother, and although she was going to be studying with wizardkind like her, who understood her powers, she wasn't sure if she was ready to be in a classroom again.
"Young miss," an unfamiliar voice addressed, clearing his throat.
Aurore peered over her shoulder at a man dressed in a porter uniform. His hazel eyes stared down at her in kindness.
"The train will be leaving momentarily," he stated. "May I store your belongings with the others?"
Turning her eyes to Fleur, Aurore gave her a sweet smile.
"Please be gentle with her, monsieur (sir). She is not comfortable with the outside world yet."
Much like herself.
"Of course, miss," the porter responded.
Aurore moved aside and allowed him to push her cart down the platform to the storage compartment, watching him until she no longer could. She took an uneasy breath and rocked on her heels in boredom until she heard her name being called.
Her mother, Deja Cerise-Greenwood, a beautiful woman with sun-kissed hair and honey-colored eyes approached her with a joyful smile.
"The train is about to leave," Aurore told her with a frown.
Deja hummed.
"I'm so happy for you, mon amour (my love). But you seem so sad."
She rested a comforting hand on Aurore's shoulder.
"Is it because your father couldn't make it? You know how the Ministry is. He wanted to be here so bad to see you off."
Aurore knew. Her father worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He was a gentle hardworking man, but because a mountain troll was seen wandering the North Hogwarts region, he was asked to investigate and had to miss her departure.
"I understand."
Deja knitted her brows. If not because of her father, then what was causing her sadness?
"You can share your sorrows with me."
Aurore felt her stomach clench; her eyes watered in protest.
"I'm a little anxious. The last time I attended class someone got hurt."
It was an accident. When she first started school Aurore was rather shy and often she got bullied for it. A girl her age took it too far and yanked her hair one day and without meaning to Aurore sent her soaring back. She wasn't hurt, but the experience traumatized her.
The Ministry insisted that as an underaged witch, Aurore be homeschooled to control her magic, preventing further incidents in the future, and so she was. It wasn't fun watching her entire kindergarten class have their memories erased because she couldn't suppress her anger.
"It's scary, I know, but the school you are going to is filled with students like you," Deja stated with a comforting smile. "And professors who are going to teach you how to control and cast magic. You are an exceptional witch, mon petit (my little one), and I am looking forward to seeing the witch you wish to become."
Aurore tightened her jaw, fighting back her tears. She brought up her arms and wrapped them around her mother, hugging her tight, an action that received the same warm response.
"I'm going to miss you," Aurore uttered.
A soft gasp came from her mother, who parted from the embrace to search her pockets. Deja retrieved a small leather wallet and removed a magic picture from within it, handing it to Aurore.
"I almost forgot. Your father and I wanted to give this to you, so you can carry a piece of home with you on your journey," Deja explained.
The picture was taken at their home in Westminster, on a gorgeous autumn day. The red and gold leaves from the field elm in their backyard floated down around them as Aurore and her parents smiled happily at the camera; her father Anthony Greenwood was making rabbit ears above her head.
Aurore stared at the image a moment longer with a fond smile on her face, then stored the picture in her robes and turned her eyes to her mother.
"Merci (thank you)."
"Être bien (be well)," Deja uttered. She leaned down to kiss Aurore on the forehead, then leaned up. "And be safe, my darling. Your father and I will write to you every day."
Aurore had no doubt; the concept was not unwelcome, however. She clutched the picture in her hand, said her goodbyes, then boarded the Hogwarts Express. Every step she took felt like she was wading in molasses as if her body refused to move forward. Perhaps she was more anxious than she thought. But regardless, she pressed forward.
A kindly 5th year in a maroon and gold scarf with a lion printed on it informed her that the front of the train was for the Prefects, students who had been given extra authority and responsibilities; a term Aurore didn't quite understand but agreed regardless, sauntering further into the train, in search of a compartment.
All of which were occupied.
Aurore grunted in annoyance and leaned against the interior wall.
I suppose I'll just stand.
Moments later, the train lurched and then departed from King's Cross Station. The vibration of the cart lulled Aurore into a sense of security; she took a deep and calming breath, staring at the picture in her hand until the sound of footsteps drew her attention toward the direction she came.
A student with thick sandy blond hair wearing a robe much different than her own, stared at her a moment in curiosity then hummed.
"Are you waiting on me?"
Aurore raised a brow.
"What would give you that idea?"
"Well... Because you are standing in front of my compartment," he answered. "But I can see now that it was merely a coincidence."
Averting her eyes toward the compartment door, Aurore felt her face heat up in embarrassment. She didn't realize that she was standing directly in front of his compartment.
"Je suis désolé (I'm sorry)," she uttered.
Aurore felt like an idiot. A sudden laugh from the blond made her want to curl into a ball and disappear, an uncomfortable expression that didn't go unnoticed by him.
"I meant no harm, I solemnly swear. My name is Ezra Frost, a second-year student," he introduced.
"I'm Aurore Greenwood," Aurore retorted.
Based on her plain-colored robes, it was obvious that she was a first-year.
Aurore examined the colors on the robes that Ezra wore and hummed.
"I'm not familiar with the house you were sorted into. My father was a Hufflepuff and my mother was a Ravenclaw."
"Slytherin; good old silver and green," Ezra familiarized her. "Not exactly the house you want to be in... Unless you are ambitious, of course."
He didn't seem too fond of Slytherin, in Aurore's opinion. Of course, she didn't know much about Ezra or the mentioned house, so her opinion of either meant next to nothing.
"I'm certainly not that," she mentioned.
Ezra snorted.
"That will be up to the Sorting Hat to figure out, but don't take my word for it, wait and see."
"What is the Sorting Hat?" Aurore asked in curiosity.
She had never heard the term before. Her mother and father kept many things about the school a secret, wanting her to experience them firsthand. In a way, Aurore was thankful but she also felt unprepared. Perhaps this was the charm of it.
"Non (no), I shouldn't have asked. You said to wait and see, so I will," she added with a shake of her head.
Ezra grinned and sauntered toward the compartment door, opening it a bit. He paused for a moment and then peered at Aurore over his shoulder.
"Do you need a place to sit?"
Aurore felt her face heat up.
"I do, but if you mind, I'm content with standing here."
"I don't mind," Ezra mentioned.
If he had, he never would have offered her in the first place.
Sliding open the door, Ezra walked in and sat on the left side near the window; Aurore took the right, staring in amazement at the vast grassland near St. Albans.
"Do you travel much?" Ezra asked in amusement.
Aurore snorted and turned her joyous honey-colored eyes toward him.
"Not much. I went to France one year to spend the summer with some distant relatives, but other than that I've never been out of London," she answered.
"Ah, that explains it," Ezra declared. "Your accent is English - Westminster perhaps - but you speak French rather well."
He was extremely perceptive.
"And what of you?" Aurore asked in interest.
"A Londoner... But status is what matters, unfortunately, to some," Ezra answered. He averted his icy blue eyes to the floor in thought, as though he regretted what he had said.
Aurore thought to question him, but it was not her place. Whatever war Ezra was having was his own. Though to say she wasn't curious was a lie. What did status have to do with Hogwarts?
A loud exaggerated yawn echoed around the compartment and for an awkward moment, Aurore stared at Ezra in disbelief at the noise that had come from his mouth.
"It's a nine-hour trip to Hogsmeade Station," he mentioned. Bringing his legs onto the seat he leaned back. "I'm going to get some rest while I can. There's much to cram in through the night before classes start."
Aurore understood.
"Être bien (be well), Ezra."
She returned to staring out the window, knowing that, unlike her travel companion, she would be unable to sleep. There was too much to see.
For the next nine hours, Aurore watched the grassland rise into lush rolling hills speckled with cottages and small towns, becoming more sparse as the train traveled further into the highlands of Scotland. And by the time the Hogwarts Express stopped at Hogsmeade Station, the September sky had turned dark.
Aurore woke Ezra and the two departed with the others, stepping out onto the platform. She glanced up at the starry sky in awe, locating constellations as her mother had taught her until someone called her name.
"You'd best be going," Ezra suggested.
Aurore raised a curious brow, prompting the upperclassman to point in a direction to the far left of her. She noticed several students with plain robes gathering further down.
"Are you not coming?" She asked, turning her eyes to Ezra.
He shook his head in disagreement.
"Afraid not. First-years enter the castle from the boathouse via the Black Lake. Trust me, you're going to love it."
"I do," Aurore admitted with a soft smile. "Merci (thank you). I hope we meet again."
Ezra grinned.
"I'm sure we will."
Saying her goodbyes, Aurore sauntered across the platform with the others, where a giant of a man with a long brown beard was standing, lantern in hand.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" He shouted. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"
With the others, Aurore followed the giant man, who she assumed was a professor, down a shady path to a fleet of small boats floating on a lake so dark she feared what lay beneath. But more frightening was the castle that sat on a cliff across the lake; it was enormous.
The bearded man sat in a boat to himself and ordered the first-years to do the same; no more than 4 to each. Aurore sat near the bow in front of three male students; one of which had blond hair so light it appeared silver under the moonlight. She paid them no attention as they whispered amongst themselves, enjoying the ride until one of them rocked the boat so hard the water sloshed beneath them, and in the process prompted Aurore to grab her seat in fear of capsizing.
She peered over her shoulder in annoyance, but the blond merely smirked in response; the larger boys laughed. With an uneasy sigh, Aurore turned forward and glanced at the castle, growing larger the closer the boats got. She was awestruck.
At a small landing stage near the base of the castle, Aurore disembarked from the boat and walked up to the castle with the others, giving a thankful smile to the giant of a man as she sauntered inside. The stone walls were lit with braziers as she ascended the staircase, following close to a boy with round glasses.
Near the top, a severe-looking elder with her hair hidden beneath a classic sorcerer hat intercepted them.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced clearly. "Now in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."
Aurore had not heard of Gryffindor; she reckoned the Prefect on the train was sorted in this house, considering it was the only one whose colors she did not know.
"Now while you're here," she continued, drawing Aurore from her thoughts. "Your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn new points. Any rule breaking... And you lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup–"
"Trevor!" A round-faced boy suddenly exclaimed as he pushed through the front roll to pick up a large smooth-sided toad that was resting on the top step.
How did he get there? Aurore was curious, but she was more concerned with the look of disbelief on the woman's face when the first year interrupted her. Already she could tell that he was going to be scolded a lot.
He awkwardly peered up at the woman, who stared down at him with the same doubtful look, then uttered an apology and walked back in line with the others like a scared animal.
I would be scared too. Her eyes are fierce.
With a deep breath, she continued.
"The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily."
Turning she sauntered toward the set of doors at the top of the stairs, leaving the first-years to talk amongst themselves for a moment.
The first to speak was the silver-eyed blond Aurore shared a boat with. His snooty 'I'm better than you' voice made her frown in annoyance.
"It's true then," he spoke. "What they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
Who was Harry Potter? Aurore had never heard this name before. She raised a brow in curiosity and peered at the blond hoping that he would explain further.
"This is Crabbe and Goyle," he mentioned as he gestured toward the two larger boys who were in the boat with him. "And I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy."
Standing in front of the eleven-year-old with the round glasses, his momentary introduction, which Aurore found a little eccentric, was interrupted by a young wizard with red hair, who snorted in laughter. The look Draco gave him was horrid.
"Think my name is funny, do you?" He asked with a bite. "No need to ask you yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley."
After a moment of staring him down, Draco returned his attention to Harry.
"You'll soon find out that some Wizarding families are better than others Potter." He paused for a moment to glance at the Weasley boy. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Draco extended his hand to Harry, and to Aurore's relief, he turned it down.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself thanks," Harry declared.
She knew that she shouldn't have, but Aurore couldn't help it; she smirked, a look that didn't go unnoticed by Draco. His brows knitted as he looked her up and down.
"I don't even know who you are," he mentioned in annoyance.
"How can you? With your nose in the air. It's a wonder you see anything," Aurore uttered.
A few of the students around her snorted in laughter, however, Draco was livid. He stared at her a moment in dislike as if he were about to say something nasty to her, but the woman from before approached him from behind and tapped him on the shoulder with a rolled paper, to which after, he fell back in line.
Aurore was relieved. She should never have opened her mouth, but honestly, Draco was asking for it. The stunt on the boat wasn't nice and belittling a classmate, just because of his name was just wrong.
Perhaps this is what Ezra meant by status.
Like her last school, those with money were always on top. It was no different at Hogwarts, apparently, a fact Aurore was not too fond of. She might have just spoken out against someone she shouldn't have; someone with strings to pull.
She took an uneasy breath and kept her head down as the woman motioned the first years along, taking them beyond the double doors.
What Aurore saw had her in awe.
Four long tables with rolls of students sat parallel to the door, and at the head of the massive room was another smaller table with what appeared to be teachers of many different personalities sitting at it. But what bewitched Aurore the most was what was above them; hundreds of floating candles flickering brightly below a gorgeous night sky with glowing silver Noctilucent clouds.
"Magnifique (beautiful)!" She exclaimed.
A girl with frizzy brown hair turned her curious eyes to her.
"That was French," she pointed out.
"My mother taught me," Aurore uttered. "Due to our heritage."
Her face turned red in embarrassment but the first-year merely smiled.
"That's fascinating," she mentioned. Turning her eyes up to the ceiling, she grinned. "It's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts History."
"I've never seen anything like it," Aurore retorted. She honestly knew next to nothing about Hogwarts.
Gathering at the stage in front of the table with the professors, Aurore stood between the frizzy-haired first-year and a boy with short red hair, chewing on something; the scent of blue raspberry permeated the air around him.
In front of them was a stool with a strange yet interesting leather sorcerer's hat sitting on it. Aurore thought she saw a face in the creases.
"When I call your name," the woman who led them in announced as she stood on the stage, unrolling the paper. "You will come forth, I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses."
This was the Sorting Hat that Ezra mentioned? It looked no more than a regular hat to Aurore. Perhaps it was bewitched or something. She waited in anticipation as the first student was called, Hermione, the informative brunette beside her, who seemed reluctant to be called on first.
"Bonne chance à toi (good luck to you)," Aurore uttered to her.
Hermione responded with a soft smile and hesitantly walked up on the stage, having the hat put on her head once she was seated.
It immediately began to move.
"Ah, right then," it uttered in a masculine voice.
Aurore was right to assume it was a face that she had seen. She was both in awe and frightened by it. Poor Hermione looked uneasy.
"Mmm… Right. Okay, Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat shouted.
A chorus of applause echoed out across the hall as students in scarlet and gold welcomed Hermione to her house. Once the hat was lifted, she gave Aurore a comforting smile before she leaped down from the stage and joined them.
Draco was up next.
"Trouble that one is," uttered the redhead beside Aurore.
She hummed in question.
"He comes from a long line of pure-bloods, no doubt a Slytherin," he explained.
Lifting a box from his pocket, he offered her one of whatever was inside. It appeared to be a jelly bean. Aurore recognized them immediately and turned them down. She liked sweets but Bertie Bott's beans were not just sweets; the entire box was mixed with unusual and gross flavors.
Her father once bought her a box from Sugarplums in Diagon Alley and the first one she ate, a harmless white and yellow color, tasted like rotten eggs. It turned her off from them forever.
"Suit yerself," the redhead uttered.
He popped one into his mouth and bit into it, immediately groaning in disgust.
"Earwax."
Aurore snorted in laughter, loudly enough that Draco heard, tossing her a dirty look as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. She tightened her jaw in alarm.
"That's a bit of bad luck," the redhead uttered.
No kidding.
Aurore felt like she was in a hole, digging herself deeper and deeper. The pure-blood was sure to target her now, or hopefully stay clear of her.
As assumed, Draco was sorted into Slytherin. He seemed proud of himself, not like he didn't already know he belonged there.
"Niall O'Shea!"
The redhead perked up at his name.
"Wish me luck," he uttered, walking up onto the stage.
Just as the Sorting Hat had done with Draco, as soon as it was above Niall's head, it shouted the name of his house.
"Ravenclaw!"
Aurore grinned and clapped for him as he sauntered off stage proudly. She wondered if her parents felt the same way when they were sorted into their houses. Would she?
"Aurore Cerise-Greenwood!" The severe-looking woman announced.
Dread consumed her. She knew her time was coming, but she didn't know that it would be so soon. Aurore took an uneasy breath and sauntered onto the stage, sitting on the warm stool.
All eyes were on her as the hat was placed on her head.
"Hmm. Interesting," the Sorting Hat uttered. Its voice seemed much louder being over Aurore's head. "There's courage, which would place you in Gryffindor, but I also sense the creativity of a Ravenclaw and the loyalty of a Hufflepuff. Definitely not suited for Slytherin, but perhaps I should put you there to give you a little ambition."
Please don't.
Aurore would gladly accept any house but Slytherin. She didn't want to be housemates with Draco.
"I see… Yes. Hufflepuff it is!"
Relief washed over Aurore. Standing, a choir of applause welcomed her to her new house. She was a Hufflepuff just like her father.
For the remainder of the sorting, Aurore spoke quietly amongst her new classmates, introducing herself and learning a few of their names. She paid little attention to the few students who were being sorted, though she did note that Harry Potter was placed in Gryffindor, a heartbeat away from being named a Slytherin.
It suited him more, in her opinion.
Hearing the sharp clank of silverware against a glass, the entire hall including Aurore turned their attention to the stage where an elder with a long white beard stood, to whom she learned was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
"Let the feast… Begin," he announced.
Before her eyes, food, and drink of all varieties materialized before her. Aurore gasped in shock and peered down the table to see the shocked faces of the first years; the upperclassmen watched on in humor, especially Gabriel Trueman, a Prefect, who announced that he'd be escorting the first years to their common room once the feast was over.
Scooping some pasta into her plate, Aurore took a thankful bite and listened to Gabriel do his best to explain the room to them. The welcoming ambiance sounded lovely.
"I can't wait to see it," she uttered.
Gabriel flashed her a smile.
"You're going to love it here."
As much as she wanted to believe him, something in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. Aurore took an uneasy breath and did her best to eat. Something felt strange to her.
Perhaps it was the strange eerie look the professor at the end furthest from her was giving Harry, almost like he already disliked him. But why?
What secrets did Harry Potter hold?