03. November 1982

She grimaced in disgust as she tossed the wet strands of hair over her shoulder. Her uniform was dripping and she was cold, as were the rest of the small group of first-year students who stepped through the portal of the castle one after the other, more or less grumbling about the past flying lesson that had taken place despite the bad weather.

She glanced after some of her classmates and considered for a moment whether she should follow the girls from her dormitory into the common room or not, but then decided to walk with the rest of her class in the direction of the Great Hall.

In the entrance of the Great Hall she parted from them and hurried determinedly past the long rows of tables until she had reached her usual place at the Gryffindors' table.

However, she was not greeted by her brother's mischievous grin, who would probably have made fun of her dripping uniform, but by a handful of other first-years who looked at her from top to bottom with the same amount of amusement.

"What happened to you, Maximoff?" one boy asked loudly and instantly a blush shot up her face, "did you go swimming in the Black Lake?"

"Flying lesson," she replied in a mumble before looking down at the ground. For a moment she endured the mean laughter of the first-years until, sighing softly, she set about settling into her normal seat.

But before she could have done so, one of the boys shoved his bag in the way.

"No Slytherins at this table!"

"Yeah," another joined in loudly and he pointed to the other side of the room, "why don't you sit with the others back there? Don't you have any friends of your own?"

"Shut up Jasper!"

Pietro's voice made them all flinch at the same time. But while the two Gryffindors shook their heads in annoyance and let out a mocking sound, a relieved sigh escaped Wanda. With a broad smile, she turned to her brother and wanted to hug him out of reflex, but before she could have taken a single step towards him, he was already pushing her back by the shoulder.

"You're all wet, don't touch me," disgusted, he grabbed a strand of her hair and slapped it across her face, then turned back to the Gryffindor table. He shoved the bag that had been placed in Wanda's seat down from the bench rudely and pointed to the vacated spot. Silently, she smiled to herself and - as usual - settled down next to her brother before wordlessly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in front of her.

Silence reigned between them for a brief moment, but then Jasper let out another annoyed sound. With a nod, he pointed at Wanda. "But seriously, why does she always have to hang around here with us?"

Pietro's expression darkened abruptly. "Why not?"

"Doesn't she have any friends of her own?" the other now joined in. At the same time, her shoulders slumped and her smaller figure literally hid behind her brother.

He was not at all thrilled by his classmate's words. Yes, she often drove him mad and not just once he had threatened to drown her in the Black Lake - but he was allowed to say that. After all, she was his sister. His family.

And family is forever. No matter how angry you are with each other sometimes.

"Until just now I thought we were friends," he finally replied acidly, then shrugged his shoulders. "But apparently we're not."

"We're friends with you," Jasper returned, his gaze falling on Wanda, "but not with her. Because Slytherins suck."

"I think this will be ten points from Gryffindor."

An icy voice at their backs made the two boys instantly jump around. Only Wanda didn't react; after all, she had seen her head of house walking through the Great Hall in the direction of their table long before. Now he was standing behind the Gryffindors, who by all appearances wanted to be anywhere but here.

When none of them could think of a clever answer to Professor Snape's appearance, he let his piercing gaze wander over the four of them. Finally, his gaze lingered on Wanda, who stood out among all the Gryffindors with her greenish robes, as if she had dyed her hair pink.

Instinctively, she ducked her head and looked at the green apple in her hands.

"Mister Prewett," Snape said slowly after a dramatically long pause, his burning eyes falling on Jasper, who seemed to make himself even smaller in his seat than he already was. "I believe you owe Miss Maximoff an apology."

Hastily, the eleven-year-old nodded - the loose mouth and self-confidence he had possessed seconds before abruptly gone - and he turned to her. "Sorry, Wanda," he murmured meekly, avoiding looking at anyone else's face.

She simply gave a soft sound of agreement and once again silence spread between them, seeming to stretch like a piece of bubble gum. Then, without another word, Snape turned away from them and continued to follow his path towards the teacher's desk.

"Told you so," Jasper sneered immediately, rolling his eyes, "Slytherin's suck."

"And with that, you just got yourself a month's detention, Mister Prewett!" announced Snape, no more than a few steps away from them, and loud laughter accompanied the boy as he was called to his professor with crimson cheeks.