Note: I have edited the ages of some of the member's of the Fawley family as well as the Scamander family to be different from what is cannon (in this story being younger by a generation) and can post a descriptive family tree and notes if you would like! I can also tack on the cannon listing of students sorted into Whitley's year (all these come with some short notes on cannon character qualities that I've collected for possible use of the story)
Chapter Two: Swept Towards the Table
Hogwarts, Whitley's first year
The Hogwarts express was just as her brother Sullivan had told her it would be. Though, she always knew it would be. Sullivan always told the truth and it made Whitely look like the naughty child, her mouth occasionally dirty with whispered curses and white lies. But Whitely told herself she was honest when it counted, and that's all that mattered. So long as she was never caught in the act—he mother once put a spell on her where she'd had a severe case of the hiccups that had lasted all the way until next morning after letting her hear her say the word 'damn'—all was well.
The trolley lady was just as sweet as she'd been informed, allowing Whitely to purchase three packages of Dragon Claws when Whitely knew well and good that her mother only ever allowed one to be eaten before dinner; the seats were just as scratchy and somehow still just as plush as had been boasted; and when passing through the moor land she saw a flock of tiny Golden Snidgets swooping about as promised. The last bit made her think of the boy on the street and his love of quidditch as well as his fondness toward Joscelin her ill-mannered cat. She wondered if he knew of the Golden Snidget's past use in the game and supposed he must, and if not then she had a key speaking point for the next time they encountered one another.
When Hogwarts was reared in the distance Whitely shared a grin with her compartment-mates, anticipating the sorting, the ghosts, and the ever floating candles that awaited. She knew, perhaps too much, about the magic of Hogwarts as Sullivan loved to speak of it on holidays. Still, as she stepped into the grand hall, fingers still wet from running them through the water as her boat rocked gently across the lake—the boy she shared her ride with seemed to enjoy tipping the sides back and forth despite her stern words against it and so Whitely mentally pre-sorted him into Slytherin in that moment—her breath escaped her lungs.
Stonewalls scaled up into the sky, the glimmer of starlight half dimmed by the thin night mist and candle light blending into one; colors came in splashes, milling among the four large wooden tables engulfing the floorspace: silver and green, bronze and blue, gold and red, and lastly—her family house hues—yellow and black.
There was never much of a question on what house her or her brother would end up in. Perhaps that was because her parents instilled in their children the same qualities their Hufflepuff head of house had done in them, a tradition carried so down far the line of blood one could not even see where it began. Though, her Father had mentioned a Great Great Great Grandfather in Slytherin—a self starting business man or something of the such—but that was almost something to be expected considering their pure blood status and the inclusion of the Fawley name in the 'Sacred Twenty-eight.' Though, her parents never much mentioned their listing on the pureblood wizarding registry. Perhaps it was because they were typed in somewhere between Black and Malfoy.
So after "Diggory, Cedric" was swept towards the table she knew her brother was currently sitting at, Whitley's shoulders did not even shake. No, she only shook after the crinkly and unassuming hat's announcement, moving to the opposite side of the hall as to where her now confused brother was, a sea of blue and bronze claiming her, and her brain rattling so hard she didn't even get to hear "Davies, Rogers" be sorted into the same home as her.
