September 1st, 1961 — Ted Tonks's First Day at Hogwarts
Ted had never felt so many things at once.
The train had been loud. Not just with noise, but with energy. The kind that crackled beneath the surface of every robe and wand and word he didn't understand. He'd read all the books he could find—The Standard Book of Spells, Hogwarts: A History, even the dry ones—but none of them had prepared him for the real thing.
Magic was everywhere.
And he was still trying to convince himself he belonged in it.
He found a spot on the train in a quiet compartment near the end. There was already a boy sitting there—tall for his age, pale red hair, not as freckled as some of the others he'd seen. He had a strange presence about him. Not intimidating, not cold—just... still. Like a pond with something underneath.
Ted introduced himself.
"Name's Ted."
The boy took a beat before shaking his hand.
"Anatolius Weasley."
That last name rang a bell. One of the older boys in Diagon Alley had warned him about the purebloods—some were decent, but others? Not so much. Ted had braced himself for some kind of sneer. But Anatolius had just nodded and gone back to reading something written in what looked like Latin.
Weird kid.
Interesting, though.
Now they stood in the Great Hall together. Ted tried not to gape at the floating candles or the ceiling that looked like a stormy sky in autumn. Everyone else seemed to take it in stride, like it was normal.
I will not look lost. I will not look lost.
He was called earlier than he expected.
"Tonks, Edward."
A few murmurs. He winced at the sound of his full name.
Just Ted, thanks.
He sat on the stool, hands clenched under the Sorting Hat.
The voice in his ear was ancient, wry, and deeply curious.
"Oh-ho! A clever one… brave, too… but you care, don't you? About fairness. About people. Hmm. Yes, I know just the place…"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
He wasn't sure if the applause was good or bad. It wasn't loud. Not like the cheers that had gone up for a Longbottom or a Prewett. But it wasn't mocking, either. Warm, if quiet.
He went to the Hufflepuff table and took a seat, still trying to swallow the pounding in his chest.
Then—
"Weasley, Anatolius."
Ted turned to watch.
He hadn't known what house the kid would go to. He'd assumed Gryffindor—like his older brother, maybe—or Ravenclaw, with how quiet he was. But when the Hat shouted—
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
—Ted blinked.
The boy took the seat next to him. Didn't speak. Didn't fidget. Just sat like he belonged.
Ted nudged his elbow.
"Guess we're housemates."
Anatolius glanced over. His eyes were steady. Grey-green. Like smoke over stone.
"Apparently so."
Ted gave him a grin. "Is that good or bad?"
A pause. Anatolius didn't smile back, not quite—but something shifted in his expression. Like he was filing Ted away for future consideration, and hadn't found anything offensive.
"It's a good start," he said.
Ted didn't quite understand it—but something about the words made his stomach settle.
That night, Ted sat on a squashy yellow couch in the Hufflepuff common room, watching the fireplace flicker. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, or whether he'd ever stop feeling like a Muggle in a costume.
But Anatolius sat across from him, reading a book with a quill in his teeth, and for some reason, that made things feel a little less strange.
Maybe this place isn't just for people who already belong, Ted thought.
Maybe it's for the ones still figuring out how.
