"It's real," I breathed, unable to keep the grin from my face even if I wanted to.
In front of us was a grand red steam engine, with the words HOGWARTS EXPRESS proudly lettered in gold on the front. The train was slowly being filled with students, whose parents and siblings were out front saying their good-byes.
"Of course it is," the girl said, and although I didn't look at her, I could hear a smile of her own in her voice.
Now I turned to her. "Why didn't you just tell me I could go through that?" I asked. She shrugged. "It wouldn't have been much fun that way, would it? I'm Bridget Goodwin, by the way." She said, holding out her hand.
"Marcia McFlint. Nice to meet you." I greeted, shaking her offered hand.
Bridget smiled. "We're going to be good friends," she mused. Without giving me a chance to respond to this odd prediction, she picked up her trunk once more and gestured to the train.
"Shall we?" She asked. "We shall," I responded, lifting my trunk and following her onto the giant steam engine. We found an empty compartment near the end of the corridor and heaved the trunks into the overhead compartments.
"So, I'm assuming you're Muggle-born?" Bridget asked, not unkindly, after I slid the sliding glass door shut and sat down across from her. "Yes, I am," I said, remembering the word Muggle to mean human. "And you are…?"
"I'm a Half-Blood." She answered, "That means half Muggle, half witch." I nodded my understanding. "And you know nothing about Witchcraft and Wizardry, and all that jazz?" She pressed further.
"I haven't a clue," I confessed.
Bridget smiled and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands together in her lap. "All shall be explained," she reassured.
And then, the witch launched into an explanation of too many things in this strange new world I was entering to count.
The war, Harry Potter and the Golden Trio, Voldemort, Dumbledore… her tales were only interrupted by the Honeydukes Express cart, where I dined on my first Chocolate Frog(which I cared for more than I would ever admit).
"I believe that's about it… oh, no it's not! I was so wrapped up in the war and such that I completely forgot one of the basics! There are four houses that each student can be in: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. When we get to Hogwarts, each first year's going to be sorted into one of those houses by this weird talking hat called the Sorting Hat, which can apparently read your mind."
Compared to the other things I'd heard that day, hearing about this talking hat didn't surprise me that much.
"Where do you think you'll be placed?" I asked. Bridget didn't hesitate before responding.
"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart." She recited proudly, then added, "My whole family- except for my father, cause, you know, he was a Muggle- have been in Gryffindor."
Then she paused, studying me for a moment.
She had blonde hair and brown eyes like my mother, but where my mother's eyes and hair were icy and cold, Bridget had bright bronzy blonde hair and eyes as deep and warm as chestnuts.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, shifting awkwardly. She seemed to break out of a trance. "No," she said, "I was just… thinking."
After another few second pause, she said, "You're going to be in Gryffindor, too." I furrowed my brow in confusion.
"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"I don't think. I know," she told me, smiling, "I'm a Seer. I come from a long line of them. I haven't gotten premonitions yet, but I sense things that others don't."
Before I could respond to this new claim, Bridget stood and looked out the window. "We'll be at Hogwarts soon. We should change into our robes."
We fished our robes from our trunks and went to adorn them. Once mine were on, I frowned at my reflection in the mirror.
The sleeves hung down over my hands at least an inch, and the robes billowed loose from my body, making me look rather large. I made my way back to the compartment, where Bridget was closing up her trunk.
"How did you do that?" I asked, gesturing to her robes, which she had managed to fit better. "I'll help you," she said, walking over and adjusting my robes. Now they weren't quite so loose. "Thanks," I said. She smiled. "No problem," she said, as the train was pulling to a stop.
"Here we are!" Bridget announced, excitement shining in her eyes. My heart quickened; even with my new friend's detailed description of the Wizarding world, I still had no idea what to expect.
I was bustled off the train with all the other students, staying as close to Bridget as possible so as not to get lost. Outside, there were other, older students waving for different aged students to join them.
"Firs'-years, over here! Firs'-years!" Came a booming voice over the rest.
I turned in the direction of the voice and, standing in front of me, was a wide, bearded man standing at about eleven or twelve feet tall.
I'll spare you my reaction, for it involved a few swear words.
That was something strange about me; I appeared so polite and quaint in public, but that was just because I was eternally socially awkward.
Deep down, I believed I could be friendly, and funny. I had just never had friends to see what that real me was like. The only two traces of it I had ever seen were when I had been on the train and had laughed with Bridget, and my habit of swearing.
"Bloody hell, you've got the mouth of a sailor!" Bridget said as we were herded into a boat.
I smiled sheepishly. "My mother always told me I had the mouth of ten." We laughed. I was gradually relaxing as my subconscious accepted this was all real.
There were kids crowded around me on that were just like me; whether they were unsure Muggle-borns or confident Pure-bloods, we were all in the same boat.
No pun intended.
We glided silently across the loch, and the inky black of the water gave no token as to what lurked within. From what I had heard today, I could only imagine.
My stomach was clenching spasmodically once we reached the other side. That's what nervousness and excitement did to me.
I peered at Bridget from the corner of my eye to see if her reaction was similar. I couldn't tell, though, because she was busy telling a cocky, flirtatious boy to piss off.
Before I knew it we were being ushered inside the impressive, dark castle. The dining hall was a long, stone room filled with four long, dark wooden tables, which were lined by students of all ages.
Maybe one million candles floated and gently bobbed in midair, their soft yellow light contrasting with the glittering blue-white of the stars and moon of the enchanted sky above. I saw each person in that hall turn their heads toward us in a synchronized and silent motion.
It wasn't deliberate, but it did successfully creep me out.
The other first years and I headed down the long row between two of the tables. I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead and not look at the eyes burning into me as I passed.
Finally we were standing before a stool with a battered, worn, old-fashioned witch hat. It seemed to produce shadowy indentations for eyes and a mouth before my very eyes.
"When I call your name, each of you will come up and I will place the hat on your head." The deputy headmistress and Transfiguration professor, Hermione Granger, announced. Then, glancing down at a list clasped in her hand, she called out the first name.
"Aguistin, Angus."
The owner of the name stepped forward from beside Bridget. It was the boy who had been pestering her earlier. He shot Bridget a suggestive smirk and winked one holly green eye. She glared at him until he just shrugged, smiled, and walked up to the stool.
"He's pretty cute," I commented to Bridget in a whisper. "He's so full of himself he'll never go hungry," she countered. I laughed softly in agreement.
Angus took a seat upon the stool, looking bored and cocky. Professor Granger positioned the hat on his head, and I could hear it grumbling to itself but couldn't make out what it was saying.
"Gryffindor!" It shouted. The students at one table stood, whooping and shouting. Grinning and running a hand through his hair, Angus joined his House. The ceremony proceeded in a similar fashion, and through my nervousness, I only remembered a few names.
"Ashdown, Caroline." "Ravenclaw!" "Bowen, Aubrey." "Slytherin!" "Connelly, Jeremiah." "Gryffindor!" "Duggan, Layne." "Hufflepuff!"
Bridget was sorted into Gryffindor, as she predicted. The Sorting Hat had barely sat on her head for seven seconds before it made it's claim. With each passing moment I became more anxious.
Would I be sorted into Gryffindor with Bridget? What if I'm put in Slytherin?
"McFlint, Marcia."
My heart all but stopped.
It's just a hat, Marcia.
The mantra bounced off the walls of my skull as I hesitantly approached the dreaded stool. Professor Granger gave me an encouraging smile and nodded towards it.
I took my seat almost cautiously, and was close to grateful when the wide brim of the hat flopped over my eyes and blocked away the prying eyes of the others.
"Ah, nervous, aren't you?" The hat chuckled, "It's alright, I don't bite. Let's see… you're quite intelligent, Ms. McFlint, but is it enough for Ravenclaw? You're also empathetic, yes, conscious of others' feelings, I don't know where that would put you… you're selfless, but you also aren't worth much to yourself… hmmm… Gryffindor would be quite suitable…"
The brave? I thought. But I'm really not brave, I think you've mistaken.
"I believe you're more courageous than you give yourself credit for," it rumbled a moment before belting out, "Gryffindor!"
I grinned from ear to ear as cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table.
"That hat was taking a long time. I was starting to get worried." Bridget commented as I sat beside her. "Me too," I admitted.
The rest of the ceremony passed more quickly than it had before. After every student was placed in their proper house, Headmistress McGonagall stood and the whole hall went silent.
"In the words of Albus Dumbledore," she said, her voice stern, yet kind, "Tuck in." A few chuckles from older students echoed in the Great Hall.
I gasped as food materialized from thin air onto the plates. "Incredible…" I murmured. As I was about to load my plate, Bridget tapped me on the shoulder.
"Let's move down a few seats." She suggested.
"Why?" I asked with slight impatience, feeling my stomach rumble. "Because after I got sorted I found these other cool Gryffindor first years. You're kind of antisocial, am I right?" She said.
I sighed. "I'm starting to see that you're rarely wrong." She smirked and concluded, "So I'll go introduce you, and help you make friends." I shrugged and stood up. "Couldn't hurt to try, I suppose."
I followed her down the table until we stopped nearly at the end in front of three people.
One was a short, voluptuous girl with a round, innocent face and pixie-cut hair as black as anthracite.
She was laughing at something the boy sitting next to her said, who was tall and heavyset with dark hair and tanned skin.
The last one, sitting on the other side of the big guy, was also laughing. He was a tad shorter than the other boy, with short hair that was deep and earthy. All in all, he was quite average looking, except for his big, smoky ebony eyes and a smile that was probably more amazing than any I'd ever seen in my life.
"Guys," Bridget interrupted, and they looked up at us. "This is my friend Marcia. Marcia, this is Kenna-" she pointed at the girl. Kenna smiled a bright, dimpled smile and shook my hand.
"-then there's Benjamin-" Bridget gestured to the tan, heavyset boy. "Hey man," he greeted, waving at me and swallowing half a roll in one chew, "Call me Ben."
"And, last but not least, that's Adrian." Bridget finished, motioning to the other boy.
Suddenly the smile was gone, replaced with a look that was, if not unkind, cool.
"Hi," Adrian said, shaking my hand. I searched his face, and must have looked pretty confused about his changed attitude, because he added flatly, "I don't know if I can trust you yet."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Same goes for you." The corners of his lips tugged upward, and a bit of the beautiful smiling boy was back.
"We'll just have to see then, won't we?" He asked, voice deepening only slightly enough for me to notice. I smirked and had no idea where this flirtatious confidence was coming from. "I guess we will."
I noticed the other were staring at us, so I looked at my feet, blushed, and took my seat beside Bridget. We ate in silence for a few moments.
"So," I said, struggling to find topic for conversation. "Uh… Ben, I didn't see you get sorted, or hear your name called. Were you up there?"
Ben's tawny brown eyes, which were framed by thin-rimmed black glasses, shone with something that appeared to be deep hurt. Kenna reached up a hand and rubbed his shoulder.
"What did I say?" I asked, looking hopelessly at Kenna and Adrian.
"It's alright, you didn't know," Kenna said, regarding me. "Ben didn't pass last year, so he has to retake first year. He's very sensitive," she explained. "Oh," I murmured, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
Suddenly, Ben's relaxed, care-free smile was back. "It's alright, man. At least I get to be in the same year as my little baby bro." The young wizard said, looking fondly at Adrian.
"You're brothers?" Bridget asked, raising an eyebrow.
"'Course we are, man! Benjamin Alon Edevane and Adrian Albern Edevane. Can't you see the resemblance?" Ben said, his smile growing as he gestured between him and Adrian.
The latter just rolled his eyes. There were little to no similarities in their looks. "Sure we do, Ben," Kenna reassured, patting his arm.
The rest of the feast was spent talking and laughing with Bridget, Kenna, Ben, and Adrian. I cared for them already. They were strange and a bit awkward like me, and could make me laugh.
After the Headmistress dismissed us to our dormitories for the night, I bade the boys farewell and followed Kenna and Bridget to the girls dorm. "So," Bridget began after they were dressed in their nightgowns and were getting ready for bed.
"Is it just me, or did I sense something between you and Adrian?" I blushed very faintly.
I had always blushed fairly easily; when talking about or to guys I liked, when embarrassed, when praised, when cold, when hot.
But every time I tried to picture Adrian's charcoal eyes, I always loyally returned to Remus's pale blue orbs.
That's a no-no, Marcia. He's old enough to be your father.
"I havnae the foggiest notion as to what ye be talking about." I said, purposefully thickening my Scottish accent.
Bridget laughed. "Deny it all you want, my friend. But remember this; I always know."
In the few moments of silence that followed, she smiled. "'Night," she said, then rolled over in her bed.
I climbed into my own bed and stared up at the ceiling.
My last thought before I was asleep was to wonder how much of Bridget's statement was a joke… and how much of it wasn't.