September 1, 1974

'Ready, set, GO!'

Arthur breaks into a run, pushing his trolley as hard as he could. Just inches in front of him is a red brick wall, as sturdy and strong as the rest of the train station.

According to the Muggles, of course.

Arthur rushes into the pillar, but doesn't stop. He isn't met with the concrete floor, however; nor is Arthur bruised and dazed. No, instead his body and trolley passes through the brickwork as if it is made of air.

Upon passing through, Arthur skids to a halt before veering off to the left, out of the way of passersby. A few feet above his head is a sign reading, "Platform 9 ¾ Hogwarts Express." All around him, families pushing trolleys are preparing to board the train. For the past four years, Arthur had watched jealously as Alisdair and Patrick climbed aboard the train to Hogwarts. But this year, he and Daffyd would be joining them- finally.

"Oi, Artie! Let's go!"

Arthur stops his musing and looks up to see his twin brother, Daffyd. His green eyes shine excitedly and his long, wavy, dirty-blonde hair has worked its way out of its ponytail.

"Al and Pat are already puttin' their stuff up!"

Daffyd leads Arthur to where the edge of the platform and the side of the train meet and workmen are busily stowing away the trunks (except for the pets; they have to stay with their owners). Alisdair and Patrick are waiting there for them, and help put away Daffyd's and Arthur's stuff.

Alisdair and Pat have fiery red hair, inherited from their mother. Alisdair's hair is messy like Arthur's, while Patrick's hair is tidy and curly. He and Daffyd both have freckles sprinkled along their cheeks. All three brothers shared thick brows and bright green eyes.

Cradling his black cat's cage in his arms, Arthur follows his older brothers aboard the Hogwarts Express. Alisdair stops at a cabin to his right and opens the door for his two youngest brothers while Patrick went off to find his own friends.

"We're sitting here! I want you two to stay with me until I join the other Prefects, okay?" Alistair says as he slides the door closed behind them.

The three brothers sit across from Alisdair's friends, who he introduces to Daffyd and Arthur. One of them, Nathan, also introduces his little brother who is in the same year as Arthur and Daffyd. He has short, brown hair that is combed neatly out of his face and blue eyes that are eerily pale.

"Hi, my name's Gawain Robards!" He says, grinning friendly at them.

"Arthur Kirkland. And this is my brother, Daffyd." Arthur introduces, immediately liking the lad. "This is your first year, too, right?"

Gawain nods his head ecstatically. "Mm-hmm! I can't wait to get to Hogwarts! I wonder what House I'll be put in though. Hopefully Gryffindor!"

"Me too," replies Daffyd. "But I wonder how we'll be sorted."

The three First Years turn to look up at the Fifth Years, who are chattering to each other.

"Hey Al," Arthur tugs on Alisdair's sleeves. Alisdair raises an eyebrow inquiringly at Arthur.

"Aye?"

"How do we get put in the Houses we want to be in?"

Immediately, Alisdair and his friends exchange feral grins. They all turn to focus on the First Years. Arthur, Daffyd, and Gawain glance nervously to one another.

"Well, it's not that hard- as long as you've studied!" One of older boys says.

"That's only if you want to get in Ravenclaw," a dark-haired boy puts in. "It all depends on which House you want to get into."

"Yeah," Alisdair says. "For Gryffindor, though, you have to pass a test of bravery!"

"The three little boys gulp nervously. "Like what?" Gawain whispers.

"Oh, it's always different," drawls a Fifth Year. "For us, we had to fight a dragon. Last year, the First Years had to camp out in the Forbidden Forest- at night. But who knows what you guys will get? Maybe steal Filch's cat, or maybe clean the dungeons."

"Clean the dungeons?" Daffyd frowns and furrows his brows. "Why?"

"Oh, you know." Nathan rolls his eyes. "That's where they punish the kids for misbehaving. Usually they'd chain you to the wall, but if you're really bad…" He trails off, leaving a suspenseful silence among the students.

"I don't believe you." Arthur objects. "You're just trying to scare us!"

Alisdair opens his mouth to speak, but the loud, high-pitched whistling of the train interrupts him. The Kirkland boys quickly jump into their seat, while some of the others wave goodbye to their parents. Arthur wonders what it'd be like to have their mum blowing last-minute kisses or father giving words of encouragement like the other students.

As if reading his mind, Alisdair drapes an arm over his shoulders. "Don't worry, lad. Your big brothers are here right? We're all ye need."

Arthur grins, happy once more. "I know!" He leans deeper into Alisdair's semi-hug, grateful for his presence.

After a few more minutes of arguing with the Fifth Years, the older boys finally admit defeat. Someone knocks on the door, grabbing their attention.

"It's open!" Nathan shouts, in the middle of a game of Gobstones.

A young boy with long, wavy, light blonde hair enters the cabin. He has bright blue eyes and looks to be the same age as Arthur, even though being several inches taller.

"Hello," he greets shyly, in a thick French accent. "I was wondering if there is any room. There seems to be none left."

"There's plenty," answers Alisdair. "And I take it you're in the First Year, aye?"

"Oui- I mean yes!"

"Great! So is Arthur, Daffyd, and Gawain!"

The French boy closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside Arthur. "I'm Françoise Bonnefoy, but just call me Francis." He sticks his hand out at Arthur to shake it. "You are Arzur, right?"

"Arthur," he corrects. "But yes."

The boy sneers at Arthur and lowers his hand. "Well, Arthur, why are there caterpillars in the place of your eyebrows?"

Arthur's hand immediately flies up to touch his forehead before dropping it back down in a clenched fist. "Want to repeat that, Frog?"

"What? Do you have caterpillars in your ears as-?"

Francis doesn't even finish his sentence before Arthur flings himself at him. Pinning him to the ground by his shirt, Arthur raises a fist to strike Francis in the jaw, but a pair of arms drags him off of him by the waist.

"Let me go!" Arthur shouts, squirming in Alisdair's grip.

"Like hell-!"

This time, it is Francis' turn to jump on Arthur, causing Alisdair to drop him. Just as his back hits the floor, Francis punches him in the nose. Arthur then grabs a fistful of the French boy's hair and tugs- hard. Francis cries out something in French, probably swear words. Arthur takes this opportunity to slam his fist in his opponent's jaw.

But much to the boys' disappointment, they are both dragged apart, ceasing their fight. Arthur tries to wriggle out of his brother's embrace. However, no such luck for him. Same goes for Francis, who is in Nathan's grip.

"We haven't even reached the school," Alisdair breathes into his ear, "and you're already starting fights, ye bad, bad boy." Arthur stops moving as Alisdair sits him on the bench, glowering at him. He crouches in front of Arthur so that they're seeing eye-to-eye.

"He," begins to protest, but Alisdair glares at him.

"No one word, lad! I don't want to hear a single excuse about who started it, ye hear?"

Arthur nods, head bowed.

"Now go apologize."

Arthur snaps his head up to look at Alisdair, eyes wide. He was not- never, ever –going to apologize to Francis.

"No way!"

"Arthur Edgar Kirkland," Alisdair hisses, shaking an accusing finger at him, "you go and-!"

"I AM NOT APOLOGIZING TO ZHAT MONSTROSITY-BROWED CRETIN!"

Alisdair immediately whips around to see Nathan scolding Francis- which is just as fruitless as Alisdair's and Arthur's conversation. Arthur takes this opportunity to jump down from where he's seated and slip past Alisdair.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Alisdair yells after Arthur, who dashes to the exit.

"I'm going to look for Patrick!" Arthur shouts over his shoulder. As he passes by Nathan and Francis, he sticks his tongue at the French boy, who glowers in return.

Stepping into the hall, Arthur slams the door shut. He heads down the hallway, yet before he can even begin walking, a voice stops him in his tracks.

"Hey kid, what was with all the noise?"

Arthur turns around to see a boy, a few years older than him. He wore glasses over hazel eyes and has a tousled mop of black hair. Behind him are three other boys his age.

"Nothing," Arthur mutters and is about to continue on his way, but the dark haired boy again stops him.

"Hold on, you're hurt." The boy squats in front of him and squints at him studiously. "That's one ugly bruise you got. Were you in a fight or something?"

Hesitantly, Arthur nods. The boy smiles sympathetically.

"So you hit him right back, right?"

Arthur nods again, less shy than before. The boy laughs and pats him on the back, taking him by surprise.

One of the boys behind the boy walks up to Arthur's side. "Awesome! Where'd you hit him?" he inquires.

"His mouth," Arthur replies, feeling better than before. However, before he could mention pulling Francis' hair as well, an enraged yell comes from down the hallway.

"James Potter, you better not be bullying a First Year, you conceited-"

"Relax, Evans!" The first boy, James, jumps to his feet and faces the girl. She has long red hair and emerald green eyes. "You know I don't pick on First Years- just slimy Slytherins!"

"Evans" gazes down at Arthur and gasps. "You poor boy! What happened?"

"He just had a little scuffle, Lily," the boy beside Arthur says. He reaches out and ruffles Arthur's hair, much to the First Year's annoyance.

The girl- "Lily" -ignores him, however, and kneels in front of Arthur, pushing James out of the way. "Hold on," she raises her wand, "I'm going to fix it a bit, okay? It won't hurt at all. Just stay still, or else I might poke you in the eye."

Lily mutters a spell and Arthur grits his teeth as a sharp pang, like that of a hot wire, shoots up his nose, but it was over before he knew it.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lily smiles.

"No. And thanks," Arthur says. "Oh, and, uh, I'm Arthur."

"Hello, Arthur. I'm Lilly, but you already know that, I'm guessing."

"And I'm," interrupts James, "James Potter, Chaser extraordinaire!"

"I'm Sirius," the other boy adds, grinning like that of a dog baring its teeth. "This is Remus," he gestures at one of the two boys behind him and James. Remus has thick, brown hair and green eyes. "And this is Peter." The last boy smiles friendly at Arthur and waves. He has short, mousy brown hair and blue eyes and was rather small and chubby for his age.

"So, Arthur," James says, "do you want to sit with us? We have a cabin all to ourselves."

"No thank you," Arthur starts, falls silent when the cabin door opens and Francis steps out. As soon as they lay eyes on one another, Arthur and Francis are about to lunge at one another, but Sirius and James hold them back.

"Not so fast, hotshot!" Sirius says, laughing as he grips Arthur by the shoulders. "No need to make Evans work even more."

Arthur stops struggling against Sirius, but glares at Francis, who is adorning a blue bruise on the corner of his mouth. 'Serves him right,' Arthur thinks, smirking. He then shrugs Sirius off and turns to leave, suddenly reminded of his original goal.

"Whatever," Arthur says, walking briskly down the hall. "I'm going to go sit with my brother."

When Arthur reaches Patrick's cabin, he feels Francis' gaze on him. He ignores him, however. The four boys and Lilly had already left for their own cabins, as well. Arthur knocks on the door.

"Come in!" A boy's voice calls from the other side.

Arthur quickly enters the cabin. Inside, he sees Patrick talking eagerly with his group of friends about something; Quidditch, Arthur guesses.

"Hey Artie," Patrick says, smiling. "I thought you're sitting with Al and Duff?"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't want to. I want to sit with you!"

Patrick scoots over in response and pats the spot beside him. Arthur sits beside him and Patrick hands him a chocolate frog. As the Third Years chat, Arthur begins to lose any focus on their conversation and nods off, his head and eye lids heavy.

"We won't be arriving at Hogwarts until after nightfall," he hears Patrick murmur. "Get some rest while you can. I'll wake you up when it's time to get dressed."

Arthur complies and lies down, his head in Patrick's lap. Yes, his big brothers were all he needed.

"Three to a boat!" instructs a very large man bearing a long, shaggy mane of black hair. He has a very loud voice, but still retains the voice of someone who enjoys being around children. "No need to be shy! There's plenty of room for everyone!"

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur and the rest of the First Years were rounded up by this man as their stuff was taken to the school. Introducing himself as Rubes Hagrid, he led them down a shady path to a fleet of boats- each supplied with a lantern on the bow -on the edge of a huge lake, called the Black Lake, according him. Arthur, Daffyd, and Gawain, occupy their own boat which launches itself from the shore. Hagrid takes up one entire vessel, Gawain points out with a snicker, which sinks a few inches under his weight.

The trip across the lake turns out to be but a few minutes long. Up close, the school is far bigger than in pictures, Patrick's and Alisdair's stories, and even from across the Black Lake. In awe, the students are brought inside the building to a room. In front of them, is a small staircase leading to another pair of doors, where they could hear many people- probably students- chattering merrily. Standing on the top step, is a middle-aged witch, adorning an elegant black cloak and hat with her hair wrapped in a bun. Her green eyes sweep over the new students before she addresses them.

"Welcome, First Years, to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher. Behind these doors is the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your chosen House. Please line up in a double line before we enter. When I call your name- it will be last name first -come to the front and take a seat on the stool." She pauses to breathe before taking a brief look through the doors. "Everybody ready? Let's go."

As she turns around, the First Years quickly form into two lines alongside one another as told. Gawain and Daffyd partner together and Arthur positions himself behind his brother. Glancing to his left, he finds to his horror that Francis is beside him, who only then notices him as well.

"Eyebrows," Francis grumbles under his breath, turning to face straight ahead as the doors open.

"Frog," counters Arthur, in much the same attitude.

The doors swing open and the First Years, following after the professor, step through. On both sides of them are two long tables (making four in total) and occupying the benches are the other students. In the front is another long table, this time for the staff, Arthur guesses, and in the very middle is an elderly-looking man with a long beard and spectacles seated in a throne-like chair. 'That must be Headmaster Dumbledore! He looks just like in the Chocolate Frog Cards!'

Looking up though, Arthur's breath is taken away. The ceiling is replaced by the night sky and candles floated among the stars. When Daffyd comes to a sudden stop, Arthur skids to a halt, nearly bumping into him.

McGonagall steps up to the front of the Great Hall, right beside a podium carved with an owl, and holding a battered old hat that had been previously placed on the stool. Unrolling a scroll, she begins calling up the names of the First years.

"Bonnefoy, Françoise," McGonagall announces.

Francis immediately straightens and strides up to the stool where he takes a seat. McGonagall places the hat upon his head. After a few seconds of silence, to Arthur's and the other First Year's amazement, the hat begins to move. The creases in the leather hat model a face, as if it was thinking.

"SLYTHERIN," the hat bellows and the students seated at the far right table leap to their feet in a cacophony of clapping and cheers.

McGonagall continues down the list until she finally reaches the K's.

"Kirkland, Arthur Edgard."

Arthur, feeling his hands suddenly sweaty, shuffles forward and walks quickly to the stool before taking a seat. Like the other students before him, the hat is donned on his head. It's heavier than it appears and smells rather peculiar, Arthur thinks.

'Another Kirkland?' A deep voice insinuates in Arthur's ear. 'Should I place you in Gryffindor like your brothers? Or maybe Ravenclaw like your mum? But there is an inextinguishable fire in you, no doubt. And then there is that unquenchable thirst for knowledge. However, your loyalty lies with family, which only means…'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The said house rise to their feet, in full celebratory manner. Once the hat is lifted from Arthur's crown, he rushes to the long table to join his brothers. Alisdair warps an arm around his shoulders and Patrick ruffles his hair. They then quickly turn to listen for Daffyd's name, which is undoubtedly next.

"Kirkland, Daffyd Carwyn," reads McGonagall.

Daffyd strides up to the stool and seat himself proudly on the wooden stool. Unlike Arthur had, he appears completely composed and calm. Anticipation hung in the air, like it had for every First Year before them and for the ones to come.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Arthur and his brothers spring to their feet, clapping loudly and hooting out hurrahs. Daffyd, chest puffed out and heat tilted high in the air, quickly joins them. Taking a seat beside Arthur, Daffyd gives him an excited grin.

A few names later, and it is Gawain's turn.

"Robards, Gawain Walter."

Gawain quickly ambles to the front and sits on the stool. However, no sooner did the Sorting Hat touch his head, it roared out "GRYFFINDOR!" Gawain leaves the front in a flourish and sits across from Arthur, beside Nathan.

After the Sorting ends, Headmaster Dumbledore stands up from where is seated as Professor McGonagall takes a seat.

"To our newest addition of students, welcome to Hogwarts. And for those returning, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore spreads his arms out and foods of all kinds materialize before Arthur's eyes. "Enjoy."

Click!

Arthur unlocks Nimue's cage and the door opens with a whine. The black cat slinks out, her amber eyes regarding the dormitory cautiously. Finding the new surroundings suitable, Nimue clambers into Arthur's lap, her bony body curling into his abdomen. Laying her head comfortable on her paws, she glances expectantly at Arthur. In response, he scratches her gently under her chin. Purring loudly, she rubs her cheek against Arthur's thumb.

"Good night, Nimue," Arthur murmurs after a few minutes of reading and cat-petting, and she leaps off of his lap. As Arthur lies down to sleep, Nimue snuggles beside his head on the pillow. September 2, 1974

"Er, I think it's this way."

Arthur groans in exasperation as Daffyd "leads" Gawain and him down the hallway. Wonderful, they were running horribly late to their very first class. The bell would ring any second now, marking the end of passing period. But really, where is that Charms' classroom?

"Lost, Eyebrows?"

Arthur and his friends whip around to see, just as they suspected, none other than Francis Bonnefoy. He smirks at them from the top of the stairs, leaning casually against the railing. It's only then does Arthur notice they're the only students in the halls.

"And if I am?"

"Then good; allow me to join you." Francis gives a sheepish grin and Arthur blanches.

"What?"

"Are English schools usually this confusing? I'm looking for the Charms' class…" Francis trails off, staring at the trio for an answer.

"No," replies Gawain slowly. Looks like Arthur isn't the only one surprised by Bonnefoy. "Well, not many schools are castles, so what did you expect?"

Francis shrugs and saunters up to the three of them, but Arthur abruptly holds up his hand, stopping him.

"Sorry, Frog, but we don't like associating ourselves with Slytherins," he spits out the last word, disgust in his voice.

"Come on, Arthur," Daffyd hisses in his ear, "not another fight!"

Arthur waves his hand dismissively at his brother, much to the latter's annoyance.

"Your oldest brother is a Prefect, oui?"

The question takes Arthur and Daffyd by surprise. However, they nod in response.

"Then it would be bad réputation if his little brothers are late to their first class, wouldn't it, Eyebrows?" Francis smirks.

Arthur growls under his breath, blenching and unclenching his hands. Finally he sidesteps, and gestures to the front. "Lead the way, Frog- since you insist."

Daffyd and Gawain step out of the way as Francis passes them, smug with his latest victory. As he turns the corner, with the three Gryffindors following behind, Gawain speaks aloud.

"I thought you were lost, Bonnefoy."

Arthur and Gawain share a smirk, and Daffyd moans mentally. However, the smug look on the French boy's face doesn't cease. Instead, he sneers over his shoulder.

"I said that the school is confusing, Robards," Francis rolls the "R"'s in Gawain's name. "But that didn't mean I am confused. After all, we Slytherins are rather… witty."

And much to Arthur's chagrin, Francis did seem to know his way. For just seconds before the bell rang, they were seated with their fellow classmates in the Charms' classroom. Across from the classroom, Arthur can tell that the Frog was still smirking.

'I'll wipe that grin off his smug mug!' Arthur fumes. Oh, Bonnefoy will pay, all right.

Arthur groans when Francis strolls into the Transfiguration classroom. For all his previous subjects, the Slytherin has been in every single class. Merlin's beard, it seems their timetables are identical!

And to make things worse for the Brit, Daffyd and Gawain were only in half of his classes, Transfiguration not included.

"Donc, nous nous reverrons!" Francis crows, when he sees Arthur.

"Not. Another. Word." Arthur seethes, although he doesn't actually understand a single phrase Francis just spouted. However, he has a pretty good idea.

"Détends-toi, Anglais! Lighten up!" Bonnefoy grins and laughs ("Ohohohon!") in that so very, very annoying chortle of his.

"No thank you," Arthur growls. "I'd rather not."

"Is it because of those hideous eyebrows, Arzur? I would too, if I were-!"

Arthur tackles Francis to the ground, livid and driven mad with rage. His fist connects with his enemy's nose with a satisfying squelch, but the French boy manages to box Arthur's right ear. Arthur quickly brings his knee down onto Bonnefoy's stomach. With Francis winded, Arthur clouts him in the jaw. However, Francis is able to come to his senses, and using his size against the Gryffindor, wraps his legs around Arthur's waist and pushes himself on top. He aims a punch to the surprised English lad, but Francis' knuckles barely graze Arthur's cheek.

Francis feels a strong tug and is dragged off of Arthur, who in turn, is held back by someone else. Looking up, Francis found himself face-to-face with a not very amused Professor McGonagall. As for Arthur, unfortunately, Patrick and Alisdair had been passing by the classroom on their way to Quidditch practice when they heard the two First Years fighting.

'Shite.'

I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy. I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy. I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy. I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy. I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy. I will not…

Arthur stops writing for a moment to rub his now red hand. Both he and Francis had received detention for their behavior- but it was worth it. After all, the Frog had gotten quite a few smarting bruises across his snout, while Arthur's ear just turned pink from the hit.

"Ahem."

Arthur ducks his head down and continues to write. Even if he had won that fight, McGonagall is as scary as hell.

I will not fight with Francis Bonnefoy.

I will not fight with Sourcils Kirkland. I will not fight with Sourcils Kirkland. I will not fight with Sourcils Kirkland. I will not fight with Sourcils Kirkland. I will not…

Francis smirks as he dips his quill into the ink bottle, but grimaces when he feels his bottom jaw begin to throb. 'How dare that insane Anglais do that to him?! But then again, Francis wouldn't mind getting back at the putain de Gryffondor.'

"We need to talk," Alisdair says, when Arthur stumbles into the Gryffindor common room.

"Okay," he says with a shrug.

Alisdair steers Arthur by the shoulder to a table in the back where Daffyd and Patrick are working on their homework. When he takes a seat, his brothers immediately clear away their stuff. The three youngest Kirkland brothers look at Alisdair expectantly, but he stares at Arthur speculatively. He didn't appear angry; he just seemed to be studying Arthur as if he's a mathematical equation needed solving. Arthur squirms under Alisdair's gaze.

Alisdair finally takes a seat with a sigh and polishes his Prefect badge, using the front of his cloak. Arthur winces, recounting Francis' words from earlier that day. Suddenly, Alisdair reaches out and ruffles Arthur's hair.

"Don't do that!" Arthur tries to move away from Alisdair's hand, which is all in vain, of course. Alisdair has arms that look like red, hairy boa constrictors and is more than double Arthur's height.

"Alisdair," Patrick says, giving his older brother a warning look. He gives Pat an apologetic smile and stops messing around with Arthur.

"Anyway," Alisdair says, "what I wanted to talk about was your conduct."

"I know," Arthur grumbles. "'Don't get into fights.' I know already."

"And you're not listening," Patrick growls. "And for goodness' sake, Arthur, sit up."

Arthur grudgingly does as he's told. It's not that he's as stubborn as- okay, he's a little stubborn. And even then, he knows better than to purposely disobey a superior, even if they are his older brothers. But there's Arthur can't help not fighting the French idiot. 'He's just so…infuriating,' Arthur muses.

"Hey!" Patrick snaps his fingers loudly. "Are you even listening to us?"

Arthur straightens, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

Arthur never listened.

End of Chapter 1

Word count: 4,522

Woah! This turned out SO MUCH longer than I anticipated! And this is just the first chapter too. I was thinking of breaking it down, but nah! It's fine right now, I suppose. The next chapters, though, are hopefully going to be shorter, but may vary radically in the future. I really don't know.

I've worked out the entire plot, and I can promise that it's going to be the longest one I've done yet, but my favorite.

Oh and 50 points to the first person who can tell me what "sourcils" means in French!

Cover source is included in my profile.