I am somehow able to survive another month in the ministry before I'm dropped off at King's Cross Station with my ticket, given the instructions to just walk straight through the center of platforms nine and ten. Maybe it sounds a bit ridiculous, but I try it out.
I wheel the cart with my trunk on it to the barrier between platforms nine and ten then look around to make sure nobody is watching. If this goes horribly wrong, I don't want any witnesses. Taking a deep breath, I start walking at a brisk pace. The wall comes closer and closer, I blink-
And I'm on the other side.
I look around in disbelief. It's so crowded! It's hard to believe that most of these people are going to Hogwarts with me. There are so many things going on, from a boy being scolded for losing his toad, to another boy with a crowd of people around him, looking at his box, to a girl bursting into tears because her older brother is leaving her. It is overwhelming to see so many people in one place. It's too loud. All I want to do is sit down in a quiet place and sing. It's not like I enjoy doing anything else. I quickly push my cart through the crowd, doing my best not to get pushed around, when I near the almost empty compartment at the end of the train. A young boy with black hair is struggling to get his trunk on board. Wait a second...
"Harry?" I ask softly, hoping that he will hear me. He turns around, dropping the trunk on his foot in the process.
"Ow!" he exclaims, trying to pick it up again. "Sorry. Hi, Rose."
I giggle and move forward to help him, but a red haired boy comes up to him before me.
"Want a hand?" he asks Harry.
"Yes, please," Harry replies.
"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"
A boy identical to the one who just called him appears out of the crowd. They're twins, of course. The two of them get Harry's trunk tucked away in the corner of the compartment as I get mine out of the cart.
"Can I sit in this compartment, too?" I ask Harry as I lift up my trunk.
"Of course," Harry answers, sounding confused. Did I do something wrong? I don't understand friendship. Are we even friends yet?
I smile unsurely and step into the compartment, lifting the trunk up, too.
"Do you need help with that?" one of the twins asks. I shake my head.
"No, it's actually pretty light," I admit. "Nothing I can't handle. Thanks for the offer, though."
They turn to each other and shrug.
"No problem."
As Harry wipes his hair out of his eyes, I put my trunk next to his.
"What's that?" one of the twins asks suddenly. I turn around to see him pointing to Harry's scar and walk over to the group.
"Blimey," the other twin says. "Are you-?"
"He is. Aren't you?" the first one asks again.
"What?" asks Harry, confused.
"Harry Potter," the twins exclaim together.
"Oh him," Harry says first. He doesn't seem too comfortable. "I mean, yes, I am."
There's an awkward silence as the twins stare at Harry, who quickly turns red. It stretches on and on until I can't take it anymore.
"So... You two been to Hogwarts before?" I ask awkwardly, trying to save Harry. It's a few seconds before one of them responds, reluctantly taking his eyes off of Harry and looking at me.
"Yeah," he says. "We're third years."
"Really?" I reply, eager to keep whatever this is going. Harry still looks really uncomfortable. "Harry and I are first years, but I guess that's pretty easy to figure out. We're really looking forward to going."
"You'll love it, it's loads of fun," the other twin says, finally looking away from Harry as well.
I smile shyly.
"Fred?" a woman's voice calls through the train's door. "George? Are you there?"
"Coming Mum!" the same twin replies. He looks at Harry and me again. "We have to go. See you around."
"Bye."
They hop off the train with one last look at Harry.
"Wow, you really are famous aren't you?" I ask, turning to Harry.
"I guess so," he mumbles, looking out the window. I join him, hearing the conversation of the woman who called Fred and George off the train. She has a large family, all red heads. It's cute.
"Ron, you've got something on your nose," the woman tells the youngest boy, grabbing him and rubbing the end of his nose.
"Mum - geroff," Ron says, wriggling free.
"Ah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" asks either Fred or George. I grin. They're kind of funny.
"Shut up," Ron grumbles.
"Where's Percy?" the mother asks.
"He's coming now."
Another boy comes over, already in his Hogwarts robes. I notice a badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he says. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" one of the twins asks, feigning surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other twin jokes. "Once-"
"Or twice-"
"A minute-"
"All summer-"
"Oh, shut up," Percy interrupts. He exchanges a few more words with his mother, then leaves. Harry and I continue to watch from the window, curious.
"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves," the mother says, turning to Fred and George. "If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or-"
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
"Great idea though, thanks Mum."
I giggle quietly.
"It's not funny," their mother scolds. "And look after Ron."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."
"Shut up," Ron tells them again.
"Hey, Mum, guess what?" says one of the twins. "Guess who we just met on the train?"
I realize that Harry is leaning back so they won't see him looking. I quickly do the same. I don't want them to think I'm a stalker or something.
"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"
"Who?"
"Harry Potter!"
I look over at Harry.
"This is gonna get pretty old, isn't it," I predict. He nods.
"... Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning," Fred explains. "He had a friend with him. Some blonde girl."
I narrow my eyes, offended. The way they talk about Harry sounds as if they respect him. When it comes to me, I'm not important.
"What was her name?" the mother asks.
"Er... Dunno," Fred admits. "Forgot to ask. She was really skinny, though. Looked a bit too skinny if I'm gonna be honest."
"Oh," the mother says quietly, sounding very sad all of a sudden.
"What? What is it?"
"Her name is Rosaline."
I lower my eyes to the ground, suddenly feeling awkward.
"And?"
"And nothing you need to know."
"But Mum!"
"It's a story for when you're older, George."
"Can't I just ask her?"
"No," she tells him sternly. "I'm sure she won't want to talk about it. It's a difficult subject. Just try to be kind to her, all right?"
"Okay." There's a pause, and I am aware that Harry is looking at me oddly. "I wonder if Harry remembers what You-Know-Who looks like."
"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though either of them needs reminding of these things on their first day of school."
"All right, keep your hair on."
The whistle sounds and the three boys climb onto the train quickly, leaning out the window to kiss their mother and sister goodbye. Their younger sister starts to cry.
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," one of the twins comforts her.
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."
"George!"
"Only joking, Mum."
The train begins to move. The mother waves to her boys while the sister starts sprinting after the train, eventually falling behind and waving.
"So that's what a mother is really like," I mutter.
"What?" Harry asks.
"What? Nothing?" I tell him.
He looks at me for a moment.
"What was the woman talking about outside?" he asks.
"It's nothing," I lie. "Not important."
"Rose-" Harry tries again.
"I'm not talking about it," I say, my voice shaking. Something about it makes Harry stop asking. I look out the window at the trees flying by. "Wow, would you look at that! Everything's going so fast!"
"Haven't you ever been on a train before?"
"No," I admit.
"Oh."
We sit in silence until the compartment door opens, revealing the young red haired boy from before.
"Anyone sitting here?" Ron asks, pointing to the open seat across from Harry and me. "Everywhere else is full."
"No, you can have it," I tell him politely. He sits down and I see him sneak a glance at Harry, then look out the window quickly.
The compartment doors open again.
"Hey, Ron."
Fred and George are back.
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," Ron mumbles. I tilt my head. They let those on the train?
"Harry, did we introduce ourselves?" the other twin asks. "Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother." He looks over at me. "And you are?"
"Rosaline…" I forget my new last name for a moment. "Laetus," I remember proudly. The twins seem confused as to why it took me so long and I can feel my cheeks turn a distinct shade of pink. "Um… But you can call me Rose… If you want."
"Well," Fred or George says after a moment, seeming baffled. "See you later, then."
"Bye," all three of us left in the compartment say together.
The twins look back once as they close the door and one makes eye contact with me. I smile politely and he grins back before sliding the compartment door shut behind him.
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurts out, not two seconds later. Harry nodded. "Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. Have you really got - you know..."
He points at Harry's forehead. I notice both seem uncomfortable, Harry especially, as Harry pulls back his bangs, revealing the lightning bolt scar.
"So that's where You-Know-Who-"
"Yes," Harry answers before the question is even asked. "But I can't remember it."
"Nothing?"
"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."
I look out of the window as Ron and Harry continue their conversation, clearing my mind. I don't even notice the candy cart roll by. Luckily, Harry does and buys a little of everything.
"Do you want anything?" Harry offers me, motioning to the heaps of candy in front of him. Smiling shyly, I reach out and pick up a chocolate frog. I've never had chocolate before, so when I open it and take a bite, I am pleasantly surprised.
"Mm this is good!" I exclaim.
Ron laughs.
"With a reaction like that, you'd think you've never had chocolate before," he says with a grin.
"I haven't," I say matter-of-factly. The two of them blink in confusion. "What?"
"Nothing," Harry insists, before starting a conversation about the cards packed with the frogs. I eat the chocolate frog quickly, feeling stuffed after devouring half.
A round faced boy comes in our compartment for a moment, asking if we've seen a toad anywhere. Unfortunately, none of us have and he leaves, disappointed. Not even two minutes later, a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth enters, asking about the same thing. She notices Ron attempting to cast a spell on his rat, Scabbers, but it doesn't work.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asks, speaking quickly. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
Were we supposed to learn our books by heart? I hope not...
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters after a moment.
"Rosaline Laetus," I introduce myself with a smile, remembering my name this time. "But you can call me Rose."
"Harry Potter," says Harry.
Hermione, of course, starts telling Harry of how he is in almost every modern history book there is, so I tune out again. I then overhear Ron telling Harry that a high security vault in Gringotts had been broken into, but the culprit hadn't been caught yet. It would take someone with incredible power to do that, I know. How did it even happen?
A few minutes later, the compartment door opens again. I look up and am greeted by the sight of the boy from Madam Malkin's. Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
"Is it true?" he asks without introduction. There are two other boys on either side of him, looking like bodyguards. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
I look over at Harry, who's clearly the one the boy is speaking to.
"Yes," Harry admits. He looks at the two boys on either side of the platinum haired boy.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," the boy introduces his friends carelessly. "And my names Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
That's not good...
I hear a slight cough come from Ron, which obviously disguised a laugh. Draco glared at him.
"Think my names funny, do you?" he asks angrily. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He did not just say that. I watch in anger as he turns back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He holds out his hand to shake Harry's, but I'm proud to say that Harry didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he tells Malfoy coolly. I beam with pride.
Malfoy's cheeks turn pink.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he tells Harry slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either."
"Clearly, you don't as well," I tell him fearlessly. I stand up and step towards Malfoy, my eyes shining in anger. He steps back. "You really don't know when to back off, do you?" I smile, getting an idea. "You know, my mother had a habit of ranting to me. I would pick up on things. One of her many popular topics was your family. I'm assuming you know who my mother is, right? Has your father told you that?" I ask mockingly. His face paling gave me the obvious answer. "I thought so." I smile. Anger is clouding my judgment, I know, but it feels so good to let it go. It was impossible to say such things with mother. Now that I can, I'm taking advantage of this privilege. "Would you like to share some of her thoughts? Or would you rather leave our compartment and not come back?"
I can see the conflicted emotions cross Malfoy's face. He wants to make a point, but at the same time, he knows I have information he doesn't want me to reveal. I'm triumphant as he steps back, out of the compartment.
"Come on," he tells Crabbe and Goyle, looking back to glare at me once more. "They're not worth it."
"Wow, that hurt my feelings," I call sarcastically after him. The door shuts and I sit down next to Harry once again. It feels almost as if a switch has just been flipped. I'm more in the mood to talk now, ready to actually participate in the conversation. It seems that my mind is finally off Mother, now that I've spoken a bit about her.
"Whoa," Ron says, the first to say something. "That was... That was incredible!" I grin, proud of myself for once.
"The Malfoys are just a family of cowards," I admit. "It doesn't take much to scare them away. The only thing they're good at is saving their own skin."
"How did you know that?" Harry asks.
"Mother told me," I say, as if it explains everything. She once complained to me about how they lied after Voldemort disappeared and said they were under the imperius curse and made to follow Voldemort. Thankfully, I'm saved from telling the story as Hermione walks in once again, greeted by the mess of candy wrappers.
"What has been going on?" she asks, staring at the mess.
"Yeah, it kinda got out of control," I admit, looking at the wrappers. "We'll clean that up."
"We will?" Ron complains.
"Scratch that," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'll clean it up."
As Harry tells Ron about the time we ran into Malfoy in Diagon Alley, I get down on my hands and knees to pick up the mess. Hermione joins me and I smile at her, hesitantly. She grins back. We stand back up a moment later and Ron noticed that Hermione's still here.
"Can we help you with something?" he asks impatiently.
"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Not fighting," I explain. "Just... Exchanging rather harsh words."
"Would you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asks, scowling at Hermione.
"There's no need to be so rude," I scold. "But since you two need to change in here, I guess I'll leave, too, and find somewhere to put my robes on." I turn to Hermione. "Do have any idea where the bathrooms are?"
We leave the compartment and another first year runs by, almost knocking us over.
"This is exactly why I went into your compartment," Hermione admits. "Everyone's acting so childish, running up and down the corridors."
"They must be excited," I tell her. I turn to look down the train and smile. "I know I am."
/
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a familiar voice calls as I step off the train.
"Hagrid?" I say in surprise, quickly turning to Hermione who is looking confused. "He's the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts."
Our group of first years quickly come together to surround Hagrid, then we head to Hogwarts across a lake in small boats of four. I end up sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, which is definitely fine by me. It's all so strange. It's only been one day and I'm already friendly with three people. I can't even imagine what the rest of the year has in store for me!
As I'm lost in thought, we are able to make it up to the castle and into the entry hall. We are greeted by a rather tall witch with black hair, who Hagrid calls Professor McGonagall. She takes us from there through the corridors until we are standing outside the Great Hall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announces. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room. The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will gain your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each one of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
I look down at my robes and frown. Though new, they're a little bit wrinkled from being stuffed in my trunk for the train ride. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now.
"I'll return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall continues. "Please wait quietly."
Quietly? She actually expects us to wait quietly? We're eleven year olds stuck in a room together. We'll be anything but quiet.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" I hear Harry ask and turn around, awaiting the answer myself.
"Some sort of test, I think," Ron replies thoughtfully. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
Well, at least if it hurts a lot, I won't show it as much as everyone else.
After a visit by friendly ghosts who are very interested in us, Professor McGonagall finally comes back.
"Now, form a line," she instructs, "and follow me."
Quickly stepping between Ron and Hermione, I follow everyone else into the Great Hall. At once, my mouth gapes wide open. I have never seen a room so big before, or so decorated. Lighted by what must be thousands of candles, the Great Hall has four long tables where all the rest of the students are sitting. Though each table is lined with dishes and silverware, no food is to be found. The teachers are sitting in a table in front of everyone else, overlooking the sea of students. As I look up, I can't help but to gasp in wonder at the ceiling.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispers to me.
"It's incredible," I whisper back. We exchange a nervous smile, then turn to look at the front of the room again.
Professor McGonagall, as soon as I turn around, takes out a rather old and dirty wizarding hat and places it on a stool in front of us. I look at it for a moment, confused. What are we supposed to do with that? I can't think of a single thing, except put it on our heads. But what if someone has lice? Did they enchant the hat to stay clean? If they did, it clearly wasn't a good job.
Suddenly, the hat starts to sing. Seriously? A singing hat. What have I gotten myself into?
The Sorting Hat, as it calls itself, instructs us to put it on our heads, then details the traits of each House. Gryffindors are brave and chivalrous, Hufflepuffs are hardworking and kind, Ravenclaws are smart and clever, and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious. Good to know.
Professor McGonagall then instructs us to come up when our name is called, and starts listing names in alphabetical order. I barely pay attention to anything, until Hermione is called.
"Gryffindor!" the hat calls. I smile reassuringly at her as she goes to join the table. It'll probably be my turn soon.
Neville gets Gryffindor as well, and it is no surprise when Malfoy gets Slytherin. Of course, I realize now that they skipped over me. Maybe it's just a mistake and I'll come back in at the end. I was only accepted after my mother was arrested. Maybe they'll be adding me in at the end because of that chaos. Yes, that's probably it.
Harry gets called up soon and the hat waits for nearly five minutes deciding on him before, "Gryffindor!" The cheer he gets is one of the loudest noises I've ever heard, and I can just barely hear the twins screaming, "We got Potter!"
Then it gets quiet as the Sorting continues. Ron also gets Gryffindor. All my friends are in that House. Please, I can't be left all alone.
The number of people standing by me lessens by the second until I am the only one left. And with a "Rosaline Laetus," I walk up to the hat. It is placed on my head, and I wait.
"Well, your name isn't truly Rosaline Laetus," a voice whispers in my mind. "You're Cynthia Cambione's daughter."
"No, I'm not her daughter," I think. "She would torture me, starve me for weeks on end. I was her slave."
"Hm…" the hat replies. "Yes, that may be a more appropriate term, but blood wise, you are her daughter. You aren't very alike, however. In fact, you're much more similar to another girl I sorted, years ago. You both are extremely headstrong and stubborn. And you're just as difficult to sort as she was. Perhaps more."
"But that's your job, isn't it?" I ask, confused. "Shouldn't it be pretty simple by now?"
"Each person is different and each have their own challenges, some greater than others."
"Oh. I see."
"You, for example, have the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, the courage of a Gryffindor, the kindness of a Hufflepuff, and the ambition of a Slytherin. Though, since you've spent your entire life stuck in one place with no freedom, no characteristic stands out quite yet. To be completely honest, it makes this very difficult for me."
"Then what are you gonna do?"
"Put you where I think you'll thrive. See, I sense a great future coming for you. You've already shown that you have no issue standing up to people and voicing your opinion. So I think, perhaps, you would do well in GRYFFINDOR!"
The cheers start immediately, more than most, but still much less than Harry. I bet it's because now everyone gets to eat. I take the hat off, then walk quickly to the Gryffindor table, finding a place right next to Hermione.
"What took you so long?" she asks.
"What do you mean?"
"You took nearly seven minutes up there," Ron says across the table.
"Really?" I say in surprise. "Well, sorry to keep you from the food."
Hermione smiles at me and then Professor Dumbledore steps up to the podium.
"Welcome!" he exclaims. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
To my amused surprise, he's met with a large round of applause as he sits back down.
"That was," I begin, searching for the right word. "Different than I expected."
Ron snorts.
"No kidding," he agrees. "Whoa!"
He looks down at the table in amazement and I do the same out of confusion. What could make him sound so excited, but so shocked at the same time?
Food. So much food. I look down the table in awe. Surely this isn't real. There's just so much and I recognize none of it! I've never seen this much food in my life, which isn't very surprising, but none of the other first years seem to have either. My God. I could eat until I blow up and I doubt I'd even touch half of what's here. I lean over to Hermione.
"What should I have first?" I ask, truly needing the advice.
"I'm… I'm not sure!" she admits, mouth agape. "There's just so much!"
I scan the table again, then reach for a plate of steak. Then a bowl of potatoes. Then a plate of carrots and peas. Before I can take even half of what looks appealing, which is pretty much all of it, my plate is full. Stomach rumbling, I dig in.
Mother never let me eat anything as delicious as this. So much flavor, texture. Honestly, it's a bit overwhelming. All my life, I've only had bland, tasteless food, but now I can eat what I would cook for mother every day. It's even better than the food at the Ministry, which is garbage in comparison!
Completely focused on my food, I only listen vaguely to conversations about ghosts and the house cup. Then desserts appear and my mouth drops open once again. Pudding, cake, ice cream… Every treat ever invented can be found on this table. And I've never tasted any of it. Harry looks almost as excited as me, if that's possible. We exchange happy glances, then serve ourselves a bit of everything there.
As we all eat, the conversation turns to our families and blood status. To avoid speaking, I try to sink down in my seat so much that I disappear. Needless to say, it doesn't work.
"So, Rose, how about you?" Ron asks. I shift uncomfortably. Did he really have to ask me?
"Well," I begin. What do I tell them? I doubt sharing my entire life would be socially acceptable, but neither would refusing to answer the question. Ugh, I'll just give the basics. "I'm not entirely sure what I am. My mother's a pureblood, but I never knew my father. I think he might've been a pureblood, too, but that's just a guess."
From their nods of understanding, I'm pretty sure that what I said was good. There's no shocked looks or questioning glances, just smiles as the conversation goes on. Oh thank god. That was stressful.
With a sigh of relief, I look up at the teachers, scanning each of their faces. There's a man with greasy black hair, a man with a turban, a plump woman with curly hair, and a tiny man who barely reaches the table, among others. As I go along, I reach Dumbledore, who sits in a golden chair in the center. As if he senses my gaze, he turns and looks at me, as well. Before he turns away, he gives me an encouraging smile, successfully calming most of my nerves. I return the gesture, then return to the conversation.
Dumbledore proceeds to make a short speech outlining a few school rules, but I barely pay attention. Hermione will remind me later, probably, when I end up somewhere I'm not supposed to be. We are dismissed soon after and follow Percy Weasley, a prefect, up to the Gryffindor Common Room, encountering only a few obstacles along the way. Then the girls are directed one way, and the boys another, and we end up in our dormitories. I get a bed next to Hermione's, but it doesn't matter much. We're both too tired to do much except change into our pajamas and fall into bed.
"Is everyone excited for classes tomorrow?" a girl named Lavender Brown asks from across the room, yawning halfway through her question.
"Yeah," I reply with everyone else. I pull the covers over my head, finding the soft texture of the bed strange. Not that I'm complaining of course. It's a wonderful change from rock hard mattresses, or the stone floor.
As I fall asleep, I think ahead to classes in the morning and how exciting it will be to finally learn magic. I can't wait.