First Day Jitter's
Harry gulped, his eyes wide with fear. He greatly hoped Fred was joking. Coming to Hogwarts was anxiety-inducing enough, but hearing that he'd need to complete some kind of test - that could be painful and would be performed in front of the whole school - had caused him to be more nervous than he'd ever been in his entire life. Harry didn't even know any magic; he hadn't read any of his school books, and judging by the rest of the first-years terrified expression, neither had they.
Even if the others were in the same boat as him, it didn't make Harry any less afraid. Not in the slightest, no siree. A part of him wanted to turn around and leave, to escape embarrassing himself in front of hundreds of people, but that was impossible right now.
A girl that Harry had met on the train, Hermione Granger, quickly whispered all of the spells she had learned under her breath, wondering which one she'd need. Harry ignored her. Her whispering was making him more nervous and he didn't need that if he was going to be standing in front of hundreds of people who'd be judging him. Harshly.
As his bright-green eyes darted around the chamber, desperately searching for something to get his mind off of his rising anxiety, he noticed another first-year, who was strangely calm. She stood tall, exuding confidence in her pressed Hogwarts robes and light-blue sneakers, with a troublemaker smirk and her hands clasped behind her back. The girl held her head high, showing off a golden locket hanging around her neck.
The one thing Harry noticed - as every preteen boy does - is her beauty.
The girl turned her head towards him, smiling and giving him a small wave. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling and waving back; her smile filled him with a warmth that left him feeling less nervous than before. He felt sure of himself, felt that he could do this and that maybe the test wouldn't be so bad. Harry chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement for even worrying; it sounds weird to bring them all this way and then send them back home because they failed one test.
Professor McGonagall, a tall witch dressed in emerald green robes with a stern expression, returned and led the first-years out of the chamber, across the hall, and through the double doors into the Great Hall. The first-years stared in awe at the thousands upon thousands of candles that floated in midair above the four long tables that seated the second to seventh years. Laid on the tables in neat rows were glittering, golden goblets and plates. At the very back of the hall was a long table that seated the professors.
As they made their way to the professors, Harry slowly got closer to the girl that had caught his eye. Ron Weasley, a boy he had befriended on the train, noticed this, and once he saw the girl, he didn't need an explanation as to why Harry wanted to be close to her.
The girl had long black hair with soft curls that bounced with each step, dark eyes adorned with a mischievous glint, and pale skin that shimmered like fresh snow under a soft sun. She walked gracefully, one foot in front of the other in a symmetrical, hypnotic stride that kept Harry and Ron's eyes flickering to her every so often.
The group stopped a few feet away from the High Table, where the professors sat, eyes filled with excitement and scrutiny, as they studied their new students for the year.
Harry barely glanced at them, his gaze returning to the beautiful girl. He nudged Ron, asking in a whisper, "Who is that?"
"I don't know," said Ron, his eyes wide with admiration at the girl. "I've never seen her before."
The girl turned her head slightly towards one of the professors, who sat on the far left of the table, right next to whom Harry recognized as Professor Quirrell. The professor the girl stared at had sallow skin and a hooked nose, with greasy black hair that reached his shoulders. His expression was set in a calm sternness, almost like Professor McGonagall, messing with him would not be a good idea.
That professor met the girl's gaze. They stared at each other. A thousand words seemed to pass through them before she nodded her head and he nodded in return.
Harry's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. That was strange.
A million thoughts ran through his head as he processed what he just saw. Did she know the professor, or does she just have a way with people? Or maybe she can talk to people with her mind! Although, that sounds impossible even for a wizard - or is it? She probably just has a way with people. Still, why did she nod to that professor? He doesn't seem like the type to pick favorites. Or is he? Now that he thinks about it, it would be nice to get on good footing with the professors; it would make the school year a little bit less stressful. Harry already seems to be in Quirrell's good graces, what's one more?
Harry looked over at the professor, and once he caught his eye, he nodded his head in the exact same way as the girl. However, instead of receiving a nod back, the professor simply glared at him with a sneer.
Harry's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the reaction he received from the professor. Not the friendly type I see, he thought, turning his gaze to the ground. Wait, if he's not friendly, then why did he – ?
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a four-legged stool being set in front of the first-years. He watched as Professor McGonagall placed a pointed wizard's hat on top of it. The hat was patched and frayed, was extremely dirty, and all Harry could think about was how his Aunt Petunia would scream at anyone to get it out of her house. He began to wonder if they were supposed to pull a rabbit out of it; he chuckled softly at the thought. When he glanced at the girl, he saw her staring at the hat with slightly wide, excited eyes, almost as if she was expecting it to do something. Harry stared at it as well, waiting for an order or something to happen.
After a few seconds of complete silence, the hat twitched, and then a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth. It started to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
As it finished its song, the whole hall burst into applause. The Sorting Hat bowed to each of the four tables and became still again.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred. He was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry smiled weakly. Trying on the hat was much better than attempting a spell and failing miserably, but he wished he didn't have to try it on with everyone watching. It felt weird in a way. Having all of their eyes on him as he sits on the stool and has the Sorting Hat decide his fate makes him feel uneasy, not brave or quick-witted or any of the other traits that the hat listed. Then, he looked over at the girl.
There was a wide smile plastered on her face. Unlike Harry, she wasn't feeling uneasy. She felt excited and confident, and ready to make her father proud.
It wasn't a difficult feat. Throughout her childhood, she had somehow managed to balance her studies and her interests, and now, the act is second nature to her. Her father had made it incredibly clear that as amazing as her athletic achievements were, she won't be a successful witch if she can't conjure a simple spell, brew a simple potion, or protect herself against even someone like Lockhart - whoever the heck that was, but Evangeline's heard he can't do anything. She wasn't sure why her father held such disdain for people who were praised simply for being great athletes, but she never asked. It sounded like a touchy subject for him.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she says, eyes flickering to the parchment in her hands. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, putting on the hat, and the moment she sat down, the hat fell right down over her eyes. There was a pause . . . then the hat shouted,
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
This time, the table second from the left was clapping and welcoming their new companion. Several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them, smiling at him warmly.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor. The table on the far left exploded with cheers. Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, catcalled her as she approached, causing the girl Harry had been staring at to make a mental note to avoid those boys. Although, her father would've never let her date anyway.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin, and "Finch-Fletchley, Justin," a Hufflepuff.
Harry noticed how the hat shouted the House almost immediately, but for others, it took a little while to decide. Such as Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy that had stood behind Harry and who the Sorting Hat took a minute to decide before placing him in Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall called out.
Hermione ran to the seat and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, causing Ron to groan.
Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, fell over on his way to the stool, getting a few chuckles. As it did with Seamus Finnigan, the Sorting Hat took a while in deciding where to place Neville. Finally, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR."
Either in excitement or forgetting that he had it, Neville ran towards the Gryffindor table with the Sorting Hat still on his head. Amid gales of laughter, he noticed that he hadn't removed it, and swiftly turned around to give it to Morag MacDougal.
When Draco Malfoy's name was called, he swaggered away from the line and took his seat. The Sorting Hat barely touched his slicked back, white-blond hair before it bellowed, "Slytherin!" As he walked past the girl with the long black hair and dark eyes, he winked with a charming smile, before joining his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, at the Slytherin table.
"Potter, Harry!"
Upon hearing his name being called, Harry stepped forward, intending to put on the hat and sit on the stool. He stopped. Whispers had broken out all over the hall, everyone feeling a mixture of shock and bewilderment as a few sat up slightly and craned their heads to get a good look at The-Boy-Who-Lived.
He could hear them. "Potter, did she say?" "The Harry Potter?" He could see them staring at him like he was some kind of zoo animal and it was . . . distressing.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the hat and sat down, placing the hat on his head, feeling slightly relieved that he couldn't see them anymore. He waited, staring at the black inside of the hat. Then, a small voice muttered in his ear, "Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent. A, my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. So, where shall I put you?"
Gripping the edges of the stool he sat on, Harry incessantly thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
Harry had a particularly unpleasant encounter with Draco Malfoy and his friends on the train to Hogwarts. Not only that, but he's heard about Slytherin's reputation. The House sounded promising, with its ambition and cunning, but he didn't want to join the possible Death Eaters or whatever the Slytherins would turn into.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted into deafening cheers at the Sorting Hat's declaration. Harry took off the hat and made his way to the table, relieved in not being put into Slytherin and hardly noticing the height of ovation he received. Ron's third oldest brother, Percy, who was a prefect, stood up and eagerly shook Harry's hand while the twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry looked between the oldest Weasley child in Hogwarts to all of the Gryffindors, who were exhilarated to have him join them. They made room for him, and he sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff that he had seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm with a warm smile, however, his touch made Harry feel as though he had a bucket of ice cold water thrown over his head.
Where Harry sat, he could see the High Table properly now. He could see all of the professors, especially Hagrid, who sat at the end nearest him. Hagrid caught his eye and sent him a thumbs up. Harry grinned. At the center of the High Table, in a large, gold chair, was Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him easily, due to having seen his face from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. The one thing that shone brightly in the entire hall as the ghosts was the wizard's silver hair. Harry looked over at Quirrell, who looked just as nervous as he did back at the Leaky Cauldron, where they first met. He looked funny with the large, purple turban on his head.
Harry looked up at Professor McGonagall, who had gone silent. She stared at the parchment in her hands, a confused look in her eyes. Her eyes flickered between the first-years and the parchment, everyone wondering if something was wrong.
Finally, she called out, "Prince, Evangeline?"
The girl with long black hair and dark eyes stepped forward, standing tall and breathing to stay calm. Harry watched with bated breath, eagerly hoping that she'd be placed into Gryffindor with him; he's not sure if he'd be able to get to know her more if she wasn't.
Evangeline placed the hat on her head and sat on the stool, everything going dark as the hat slid past her eyes. A small voice spoke in her ear. "I sense greatness in you," it said, "you're a very unique girl - nothing like I've ever seen. Hmm, very loyal and devoted to family, brave and a hard worker. Very smart too."
If I may, Evangeline thought, clenching her fists together on her knees and hoping the Sorting Hat heard her, I would like to be placed in Slytherin.
"Slytherin?" said the voice, perplexed by her ask. There was a pause. "No, you're not suitable for that House. The resourcefulness and cunning is there, but you're more Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. A very close combination of the two. Hmm, this is a difficult choice. Let's see, you would do very well in . . . GRYFFINDOR!"
Evangeline quickly removed the hat from her head, placing it back on the stool and taking hesitant steps towards the Gryffindor table. A ringing in her ears muffled the welcoming applause and cheers, her skin numb to the pat she received from Percy, who guided her to sit down next to Harry. Despite the small smile that grew on her face as she glanced at each of the Gryffindor's, Evangeline was in no mood to celebrate. In fact, getting declared a Gryffindor was a nightmare for her.
What did the Sorting Hat mean by "not suitable" for Slytherin?
The hall was so keen in congratulating Evangeline and seeing what House the next first-year would be placed in that no one noticed the look of pride that slowly shifted to horror and disbelief on the Potions Master's face. Catching Evangeline's eyes for a second, he sees that she's just as confused, and a little bit scared.
There were only four people that needed to be sorted now, but whatever House they were placed in, Evangeline didn't know. She stared at the empty, golden plate in front of her, wondering how she could've been placed in Gryffindor. Not suitable? What in the name of Merlin did the Sorting Hat mean by that? How could she not be suitable for Slytherin? Like it said, she was cunning and resourceful; what else was Evangeline missing that didn't make her Slytherin material? Was she not as ambitious? Was she not a leader? Not determined enough? What about her made her more Gryffindor than Slytherin?
While wanting her father's guidance, Evangeline refused to lift her head and look him in the eye. She is aware of his disdain towards Gryffindor, and she's not even sure if she'd be able to face him after tonight. A recurring thought swirled in Evangeline's mind: What if he doesn't love me anymore?
I can't be a Gryffindor, she thinks to herself, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. I just can't. It's not possible. I am suitable for Slytherin. The Sorting Hat has to be wrong. It just has to be.
Evangeline began to feel dizzy, her heart pounding against her chest. She blinked several times, taking deep breaths and beginning to fidget with the pearl bracelet on her wrist. Evangeline knew if she didn't control her anxiety, she might have a panic attack or faint; and she isn't sure which would be worse.
She had to think of something else, something less stressful than being in . . . it'd be better to not say the House name even in her head. There's a million things she could think of. Her mom, her brother, the ocean, gymnastics, blue food, that secret she's not supposed to tell her dad - actually, wait, don't think about that. Think about anything but that.
Evangeline took a deep breath, and when she did, a delicious aroma filled her nose, telling her her much needed comfort had arrived.
She looked around, noticing the vast array of delicious food and contentedly sighed. Food is exactly what she needs, and to be quite honest, Evangeline is a bit hungry. She hurriedly filled her plate with roast beef, pork and lamb chops, carrots, gravy, mashed potatoes, fries, and ketchup, and started to eat. Evangeline savored the meal, allowing the hot, juicy, and crispy food touch every inch of her tongue before chewing and swallowing. Her eyes were half-shut, gazing down at her meal as her brain focused on the warm sensations that plagued her taste buds.
The food works. Evangeline can feel her heart returning to its normal rhythm, a coolness washing over her as her breathing slowed. There was still a bit of her meal left in her mouth when the remains faded away from her plate and the desserts appeared. Not gulping it down, Evangeline reached for the blueberry ice-cream, scooping spoonfuls onto her plate.
She continued to savor her meal, focusing on every bit of it and allowing herself to get lost in the many flavors that clashed together in a violent yet comforting way. Evangeline always liked a bit of chaos.
Evangeline jumped, startled out of her stress eating stupor, by Harry's question: "What about you, Evangeline?"
She choked on her food, needing a slap on the back by Gryffindor's ghost. The cold contact brought back terrible memories of having buckets of water thrown at her that were followed by the bullies' taunts, provoking her to reveal her powers and becoming angry when all she did was have a panic attack. She always hated that. Always hated that feeling she'd get everytime it happened, like a part of her was being pushed down and it was crawling to get out - to fight back.
Evangeline had to hold back from slapping the ghost - from causing a scene - and bringing attention to herself. However, the look that she gave him was enough for him to take his hand off of her back. She turned to Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Neville, who were all looking at her with concerned expressions.
"Are you okay?" Seamus asked, his brows furrowed.
"Yes," Evangeline says, taking deep breaths as her nails dug into the wooden table, "Why?"
Ron wanted to tell her how her reaction was startling. At a simple touch, her eyes had gone wide with fear and her breathing became heavy, like she was seeing something terrifying - something that paralyzed her. He decided not to. Ron could tell by her hostile tone that Evangeline would just deny and brush him off.
"No reason," Ron said, glancing away from her. "So, what's your family like?"
"My family?" Evangeline narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Why do you want to know?"
"We all talked about our families," said Neville. "We're curious to know about yours."
Evangeline's dark eyes darted towards each of the boys, studying their expressions and peering into their minds. Once she was sure they weren't trying to do anything malicious, she took a deep breath and said, "My father is a wizard and my stepmother is a Muggle. I have a little brother."
"How did your mum feel when she found out your dad was a wizard?" asked Seamus, leaning in. "My dad had a bit of a nasty shock when he found out my mum was a witch."
Evangeline yawns, shaking her head. "I don't know. My parents got married when I was three, but she knows and they're very happy together."
She ate a few more scoops of her ice-cream, relishing the way it melted on her taste buds and slid smoothly down her throat. Her eyes flitted over to Harry when he exclaimed, "Ouch!" and clapped his hand onto his forehead.
"What is it?" Percy asked, looking over at the first-year with a concerned expression.
"N-nothing," Harry replied, slowly lowering his hand. Evangeline could see Harry looking at something and her eyes met the object of his gaze - her father. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, looking at Percy.
"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" answered Percy, who looked over at the nervous professor. "No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Evangeline looked at her father, her eyes glancing at Quirrell. She knew about the former Muggle Studies professor due to the furious rant Snape went on during the summer after finding out who got the job he so greatly desired. It took a while for her mother to calm him down. Knowing how adept her father is in potion-making, she was a bit worried as to why he was sitting next to Quirrell.
By the time Evangeline had finished her ice-cream, all of the desserts disappeared. Dumbledore rose to his feet and the entire hall fell silent.
"Ahem, just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," the headmaster said, "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Evangeline noticed Dumbeldore glancing at the Weasley twins. She knew why he did that. Her father has told her stories about the Weasley twins' pranks. Their pranks weren't malicious by any means, but their mother did receive plenty of letters every year.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors," Dumbledore continued. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Evangeline was one of many who didn't laugh at the headmaster's warning. Her father had told her on the ride to the train station that she was not allowed to go to that corridor; he was quite firm in his order, and as much as Evangeline loved to rebel, she knew when to disobey her father.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried, causing a few of the other teachers' to put on a fixed smile. The headmaster flicked his wand slightly, and a long, golden ribbon flew out of it, rising above the tables and twisting itself like a snake into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
Evangeline's mouth instinctively opened to sing the school song along with the other students, but no words came out. In the back of her mind, she knows that her voice will be drowned out by the other kids' bellowing, but a part of her was scolding her for even thinking it was a good idea to sing along. The others may not hear her, but the people closest to her will. Evangeline is a good singer, but she's not that good.
She waited patiently for everyone to finish, and they all did at different times. The only people left singing were the Weasley twins, who sang along to a very slow funeral march. Evangeline felt like joining them, to at least sing a part of the song, but thought better of it. It would probably be rude, she thought to herself, best to let them finish it on their own.
Once the twin's had finished their song, Dumbledore clapped the loudest. He wiped away the tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes, saying, "Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Evangeline stood up from her seat, following the other first years, as Percy led them through the chattering crowds out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Evangeline let out a yawn, running her hand through her hair as her eyelids grew heavy. She was ready to collapse on her bed and fall into a deep sleep, and hopefully, have a nice dream. She'd been having some weird dreams lately.
The group passed by portraits that whispered and pointed at them, led twice through doorways that were hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, letting out an occasional yawn as they dragged their feet. After a few minutes, Evangeline yawned and stretched again, closing her eyes and letting out a surprised gasp when she bumped into one of the Patil sisters. "What's happening? What's wrong?" she asked, glancing at the twins and around the corridor, curious as to what caused the sudden halt.
The girls didn't answer, too busy staring at what was floating above them. Evangeline followed their gaze and saw a bundle of walking sticks floating in midair, and the moment Percy took a step towards them, they threw themselves at him. Percy wasn't fazed by it - he was more annoyed than anything.
He turned to the first years and whispered, "Peeves, a poltergeist." Percy turned back to the floating sticks, and raised his voice, speaking in a stern, authoritative tone, "Peeves - show yourself."
What replied was a loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon. Evangeline let out a tired chuckle. Poltergeists were one of the more destructive types of ghosts; they were mischievous little buggers and it was hard to get rid of them if you didn't have the right resources, or you got attached to them. Evangeline's parents would never allow one in their house as a poltergeist would make Theodore, her little brother, have meltdowns.
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" Percy threatened.
There was a pop - loud enough to wake Evangeline up a bit, and annoy her in the process - and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air and clutching the walking sticks. "Oooooooh!" he cackled evilly. "Ickle firsties! What fun!" Peeves swooped down at them. They ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" Percy barked angrily, getting a tongue stuck at him in response. Peeves vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head and zooming away, rattling the coats of armor as he passed. As the first-years continued their journey to Gryffindor Tower, Percy glanced at them, advising, "You want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. She looked down at the first-years with a questioning stare and asked, "Password?"
"Caput Draconis," Percy replied, and the portrait swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall.
They all scrambled through the hole - Evangeline helped Neville with a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory, and Evangeline hurried up the spiraled steps, her feet picking up the pace at the promise of a deep sleep. She quickly located her four-poster bed and shuffled towards it. Evangeline knelt beside her trunk - a box with ocean designs and her family crest painted on - and she began to rummage through it, searching for her nightgown.
She changed out of her uniform and into the nightgown, climbing into bed and closing the curtains. Evangeline didn't fall asleep immediately. There were too many things on her mind. She wasn't too worried about her studies - it was the making friends part she was worried about. Despite how social she was, Evangeline had a hard time making friends - the cons of being isolated.
Evangeline took a deep breath, closing her eyes as her lips curled into a small smile. Come hell or high water, she will make at least one friend this year.