It was yet another day in London, but not just any day. Today was September First, the day Hogwarts - the infamous school of witchcraft and wizardry - opened its gates to new, young wizards and witches. Fidgeting students packed Platform Nine to the brim, bustling about in hopes to find an open seat when the train pulled up.

"Remember now, be good," your mother repeated, your satchel slung over one of her shoulders. "You must uphold the family honor."

"Yes, and remember to do your best," your father added. "Don't go getting into any, uh..." He furrowed his brow, exchanging a helpless glance with his wife.

"Don't go causing trouble," your mother finished. She grinned at your father endearingly.

"Got it," you assured them. "I will uphold the family honor."

"I'm so proud," your father beamed. He pulled the fabric of your hood over your head. "Keep your hood on."

You nodded affirmatively. The cloak felt heavy and comfortable over your shoulders.

"Okay, go on," he said, patting your arm affectionately. "It's almost time!"

"Right." Retrieving your bag from your mother, you kept a guarded hand on your trolley as you melted into the crowd. The chatter of hundreds of students filled the passageways. Your pulse fluttered, though you found it difficult to pinpoint a singular emotion. Were you anxious? Excited? Closing your trembling fingers over your amulet you decided that it was a feeling somewhere in between.

Not too far away, a particular young boy prepared to take his first steps into the world of wizardry.

"Okay, son." A broad man, his father, turned to him. "You ready?"

"Yes, Dad!" The boy rocked on his heels in anticipation, dimples dotting his round cheeks. "What house do you think I'm gonna be in?"

His father chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know, Alfred. The hat will decide for you."

Quirking his head, Alfred asked, "'The hat'?"

"You'll know when you get there," the man assured, mirroring his son's jubilant smile. "But if there's one thing I remember from being in Gryffindor, it's to stay away from those Slytherins." The last word was accompanied by a displeased grimace.

"Okay," Alfred chirped nervously. His eyes hardened, seriousness flickering in his light blue gaze. "So, how do I get on the train again?"

"Oh. You just run into those bricks," his father explained, directing his finger towards the sturdy pillar, "and hope for the best."

"Is that it?" A look of uncertainty replaced the smile on his face. Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead. "How will I know what to do?"

"Just run into the bricks. Hurry - the train is about to leave!" He nudged his son towards the line of future Hogwarts students.

"Wait!" Alfred called. He frantically scanned the crowd, finding that his father was nowhere to be seen. Distracted, his palm slipped, and it took nearly all of his control to swerve his trolley away from you, the hooded figure in front of him. Nevertheless, the wheel snagged on your fluttering cloak.

You whirled around at the culprit and glared at him. "Watch it," you growled. With a sharp jerk, you pulled the dark fabric out from under Alfred's trolley.

"Sorry," he sputtered. "I'm just a bit nervous, is all."

"Don't be," you snapped. After seeing the frightened look on Alfred's face, you sighed. "Look," you added in a softer tone, "there's no spell to cast. You just run. Trust me, you will be fine."

The line thinned in front of you, leaving a clear path directly towards the brick pillar. "See? Watch me," you said to Alfred. Taking a deep breath, you ran straight for the column. Just as you were about to collide with it, you vanished - ominous cloak and all.

"Okay, cool," Alfred muttered. He furrowed his brow in concentration. "I can do this."

A burst of confidence swelled in his chest, and he surged forward with his trolley, legs pumping underneath him. Upon instinct, his eyes snapped shut. The loud chatter of the train station momentarily ceased, a frigid wind rustling his sandy colored hair before he emerged on the other side. Realizing he was holding his breath, Alfred exhaled, opening his eyelids. His mouth dropped open in awe at the enchanted train in front of him. The sign above him marked his destination as "Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters". The corners of his lips curved upward as he continued to marvel the magical station.

"Wait a sec," he wondered, "how do I get on?"

As if on cue, an adult figure stepped off the train a few feet away from him, adorned in the standard staff uniform.

"Excuse me," Alfred called, pushing his trolley over to the man. "Could you please tell me where to get on?"

The man turned, giving the soon-to-be wizard a dry smile. "Just bring your luggage and find a compartment on the train," he instructed.

"Where is the entrance?"

"Right there," he said, pointing at an entryway positioned between two cars.

Alfred beamed and nodded. "Thanks!"

The adult grunted, now incredibly disinterested in the young boy.

After hoisting his heavy bag over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his pet's cage, he abandoned his trolley near the edge of the track and squeezed through the opening. Alfred walked down the aisle, glancing at the compartments on both sides of him. He was vaguely aware of people pointing and gaping at his bird. His cheeks flushed with pride.

The rooms near the front were piled with students, much to his disappointment. The ones at the back weren't much help, either, and Alfred began to speculate the possibility of having to take his seat between the compartments. That is, until an empty compartment caught his eye. He peered into the glass and realized that it wasn't completely vacant.

The girl he nearly ran over, you, sat near the window. Your head was down. The hood you pulled over your head concealed your features, through your [H/L] [H/C] hair escaped. A tiny Snowy Owl was nestled between your legs, its eyes closed in content.

Alfred pulled the door open. Startled, you and your owl directed their attention on the boy at the entrance. You registered his face, instantly remembering the trolley incident in front of the entrance to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

"Uh, can I help you?" you asked quietly, making the irritation quite apparent in your voice.

Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh, um…" He cleared his throat and forced himself to smile. "Can I sit here? All the other seats are full."

You shrugged. "Well, alright."

Mumbling a quick, "thanks," the boy stuffed himself into the compartment. He placed his pet cage on the floor and tossed his school bag onto the opposite seat, settling himself across from you. A sharp, low whistle sounded into the air, and the train hummed below your feet.

"Hey, uh, sorry for… you know…" Alfred stuttered, "almost running you over."

"It's fine," you said, your calculating [E/C] gaze sweeping over his features. You pulled your hood down over your shoulders and shook your hair out.

"So, what house do you think you're going to be put in?"

"Well, my family has always been in Slytherin," you recalled, returning your attention to your owl, "so I reckon I will get put in that house."

His face fell almost immediately. "Oh."

"What?"

"You're a Slytherin," he stated, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah." You narrowed your eyes. "What's wrong with that?"

"Well, just, you know," he said, "most bad wizards get put in there."

Annoyance pricked your bubble of content. "My mother and father are the best people I know, thank you very much!" you snapped.

"Sorry, geez," he grumbled. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Well, you did," you huffed. A soft wing brushed against your cheek as your owl fluttered to rest atop your shoulder.

"Okay… Well, where are you from?" he asked.

"Suffolk." You picked at your cloak. "What about you?"

"Washington DC, from America!" he answered, his mouth stretching into a giddy beam.

"Oh, great," you sighed, tiredly, "an American."

He quirked his brow suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," you said. "It's just that most Americans are, well... "

He crossed his arms and glared at you. "That's rude."

"You started it." Searching for something to focus on besides the annoying boy in front of you, your eyes darted to the cage housing Alfred's pet. Your mouth gaped in bewilderment.

"Is that a bloody eagle?!" you shrieked. The big bird turned its beady gaze on you and screeched in return.

"Yep!" Alfred lifted the cage onto the space beside him. "His name's Hero."

"You can't bring an eagle to school!"

"Well, it's better than your pewny owl," he retorted.

"Excuse me," you barked in annoyance, "but Lucan is the best owl out there!"

"Lucan?" Alfred scoffed. "What the heck does that even mean?"

"Git, it means 'bringer of light'."

"Wow, you're deep," he groaned, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"At least I apply depth to my names," you defended, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. "'Hero'? Please. I've heard better names come out of my own father's arse!"

"It is a great name! It mean he's brave, which I am," Alfred cried, pointing at himself, "which means that I'm going to be put in Gryffindor!"

"That makes so much sense." You rolled your eyes. "I mean, so far, you have been nothing but completely barmy."

"What now?"

"Idiotic."

"Who're you calling an idiot!" he hissed, clenching his jaw.

"You," you smirked. "Oh, wait, you must also have short term memory loss."

"Shut it, you… you idiot!" he bellowed. He stood up, towering over you.

"Oh, wow." You leapt to your feet and placed your hands on your hips. "That was the best insult ever, you manky git!"

"Hey, that was rude!" he yelled. By now, you two were standing eye to eye, scowling at each other with such intensity that it was no doubt a fire could have started. Lucan moved back onto the seat.

"Four eyes," he sneered.

"Grotty, nosey parker."

"Well... You're a nasty, slimy Slytherin!" Alfred stamped his foot in frustration. "I hate Slytherin! From now on, you're my rival!"

Your lip curled in irritation. "I would hardly call you a rival. If I ever had to battle you, you would be down in the dust in ten seconds."

"Yeah, right," he snorted. "I bet I can beat you at anything."

"Well, now, you won't be able to find out," you declared. You shouldered your satchel and scooped Lucan off of the seat. "I will not tolerate taking the piss of a poxy, pillock American!"

After gathering your luggage, you stormed out of the compartment and slammed the door. The questioning eyes of other students momentarily darted to Alfred's room.

"Fine! I don't need you anyway!" he shouted after you, but you had already disappeared down the aisle. He sighed and flopped down on his seat.

"Stupid Slytherin." Discovering a cauldron cake in his coat, he unwrapped it enthusiastically and took a bite. Sweetness exploded on his tastebuds. He looked to Hero, who cocked his head and studied Alfred. "Dad was right - Slytherins are ill-tempered."

The eagle simply blinked and ruffled its feathers.

Alfred crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I know, right?"

You stomped away from the compartment, cradling Lucan close to your chest.

"I can't believe that boy!" you grumbled, keeping your eyes steadily trained on your pet. "I mean, we haven't even gotten into our houses yet, but he would be a Gryffindor - reckless, rude. I don't even know his name yet. Heck, I don't want to know his name." Realizing your current actions, you shook your head. "I'm going bloody crazy - talking to an owl."

Wanting to put as much distance between you and that annoying boy, you continued down the aisle. A particular compartment caught your eye. You slowed your steps to allow yourself to look into the room. Three boys - definitely older than you - made themselves comfortable on the seats. It was obvious that they had attended Hogwarts before, seeing as they were clad in the traditional robes and ties.

You hesitated, considering the facts. These were experienced, older students. They may not want to associate themselves with a young girl who isn't even a wizard yet. However, as you turned around to glance at the room you previously stayed in (with that irritating, unbearable Gryffindor), you decided that you would rather cram yourself in with fifth year students than withstand torture for a couple more hours.

You peeked your head into the compartment. "Excuse me," you greeted the students, "the other seats are full. May I sit here?"

"Go ahead," a boy with thick eyebrows grunted. The boy next to him did little to acknowledge you, keeping his eyes trained on the open book on his lap. Across from him, another student leaned against the window, asleep.

"Thanks." You took your seat next to the sleeping boy, unwrapping a mouse pop. You slipped a hand into your cloak pocket and dangled an actual dead mouse in front of Lucan. The white owl happily gulped it down.

"What's up?" The reading student peeled his eyes away from the textbook, regarding you with deep blue hues.

You sighed in exasperation. "I just met the world's most annoying kid who thinks that Slytherins are a nuisance. "

"Well, Slytherin is the best house, to be exact." The boy who first greeted you turned to look at you. He offered you a one-sided smile, reaching into his uniform and pulling out a shiny green badge. "In fact, I'm a Prefect," he said, his cheeks glowing with pride.

"Wow," you breathed in honest admiration.

"What's your name?"

"[First name] [Last name]," you answered. "Today is my first day."
"Arthur Kirkland, fifth year," he introduced himself, offering his hand.

You shook it, sighing, "Finally, someone around here who isn't off their trolley."

"This is Lukas," he said, nodding towards the light-haired bookworm, "and the one sleeping over there is Vladimir."

"Hello, nice to meet you," you addressed each one in turn.

"So, what house are you hoping to get in?" Arthur asked, returning his Prefect badge into the safety of his coat pocket.

"Well, I really want Slytherin," you replied, explaining, "since my family has a pure bloodline of that house."

"A pure blood," Arthur noted with approval. "That alone gives you a good chance."

You nodded, unfurling a pack of sour strawberry strips. You turned to the Prefect. "You want one?" you offered, crinkling your nose in disgust. "I don't really like sour things."

"No, thanks." Arthur called to Lukas, "Want one?"

"Sure." Lukas set his book atop his lap and opened his hand. You dropped a strip into his palm. It quickly vanished into his mouth.

"So," he started, his voice muffled by the candy, "what's your owl's name?"

"Lucan," you answered.

"Nice name."

"So, anyway, Vladimir..." Arthur began, looking at the sleeping boy across from him. A frown adorned his features when he realized that his companion was unconscious. "Wake up!"

Vladimir's red hues fluttered open."Wh-what? Um, are we there yet?" He yawned, massaging the dark circles under his eyes as he scanned the compartment in exhaustion. His newly awakened gaze came to rest upon you. "Oh, we have a new cabin mate."

"Yes. This is [First name] [Last name]."

"Nice to meet you," the sleepy student greeted, his voice thick with slumber. "I'm Vladimir Popescu. I'm from Romania, and I'm in Slytherin."

You grinned politely. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Then there's Lukas over here," Vladimir continued, directing his thumb at the reading boy, "who is in Ravenclaw." At the mention of his name, Lukas glanced at Vladimir questioningly, adjusting the clip in his flaxen hair.

You nodded, taking a moment to digest the information. "So, is there anything else I should know about?"

"Well, let's see…" Vladimir pursed his lips. "Mathias Køhler is in Gryffindor - same year as us. Um, don't be nervous when you get to the Sorting Hat - it's easy. And... Oh!" He gasped, a jubilant beam brightening his deathly pale skin. "Make sure you try out for Quidditch! You look like you would make a good goalie."

"What, no!" Arthur exclaimed incredulously. "She looks more like a seeker, if you ask me."

The Romanian studied you for a moment, his scarlet eyes examining your features. "Huh. I guess you're right, Arthur." He allowed his back to slump against the seat, his head coming to rest against the window. "Wake me up when we get there."

Arthur's green gaze widened. "Wait, Vladimir…"

Vladimir showed no signs of recognition, his eyes already shut tight and his breathing becoming slow and even.

You quirked your head at Vladimir curiously. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He's fine," Arthur insisted, unconcerned, "just a bit nocturnal."

Nodding, you turned your attention to the shy Ravenclaw across from you. "What are you reading?"

Lukas flinched, startled by your interaction. Using his thumb as a placeholder, he flipped the hardback to its cover. "The Use of Herbology in Potions, by Gularia Sudanno," he read.

The words sounded familiar to you. "I believe my dad has that book," you recalled.

"It's fascinating, really - how a singular herb can have so many different uses," he stated, a thoughtful glimmer in his gaze. "I wonder if I can remember them all."

"Doubting yourself?" you inquired. "That's new."

"I wasn't doubting myself," Lukas insisted. He folded the corner of his current page and tucked it away in his bag. "I was encouraging myself."

Then, the train stopped.

"Well, time sure does fly by," Arthur mused. He stood, propping his trunk under a careful arm. Turning to his comrades, he beckoned them with a nod. "Come on, boys."

"We're wizards," Lukas noted, a hint of irritation in his tone, "don't call me 'boy'."

"Don't worry," you assured the boys. As you wrapped your hands around your bag, Lucan hopped onto your shoulders. You puffed your chest out proudly. "I already know I'm Slytherin material."

"Determination - that's good," he recognized. He raised a hand in farewell. "See you around, [First name]."

"Bye," Lukas and Vladimir bid in unison, slipping out of the compartment after their friend. "Hope to see you soon."

-End of Chapter One-