Italics are French

Prologue

"Arthur, dear, are you almost ready?" Arthur Kirkland's mother asked him as she poked her head into his room.

Arthur nodded, a rare grin spread across his face. "Yes, mother. I checked three times to make sure everything was in order!"

His mother laughed and ruffled his hair. "Oh, you're growing up so fast! Soon enough, it'll be your seventh year!" She hugged him tightly.

Arthur tried his best not to laugh. "Mother!" he whined. "You're going to mess up my hair!"

She laughed. "I'm sorry, dear, but you'll understand this feeling when you're a parent."

"That's implying that someone's gonna marry him!" Arthur's brother, Alistair shouted from the hallway.

Arthur glared. "Would you knock it off?!"

"Alistair, are you even completely packed?" their mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...No..."

"Then you should be packing instead of bothering your little brother!"

Alistair huffed and walked off. Mrs. Kirkland looked down at Arthur. "Write to me if any of them bother you, okay? Or if anyone bothers-"

"Mother! I can't go writing to you every time someone upsets me! I'm not a baby!"

She kissed his head. "I know, dear, but you'll understand why I worry so much when you're older." She looked at the clock over on Arthur's desk. "Well, Arthur, if you and your brothers are all packed, why don't we start heading to the train station.

Suddenly, another head poked through the door. "Mom!" Arthur's six year-old step brother, Alfred, called. "Can I come to the station too?" he begged, sticking out his bottom lip for emphasis. "Please?"

"Yes, darling, but be sure to stay close to me."

Alfred grinned. "Aw yeah!" He ran out of the room.

Mrs. Kirkland sighed. "Whatever am I going to do with him?" she mumbled, smiling. "I'll be downstairs. Once you're done, meet me down there, okay?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, Mummy."

When his mother left the room, Arthur went through the school supplies list to check to make sure everything he had was there. He still could not believe that today had come. The day he had been waiting for his whole life! He was actually going to Hogwarts! He had heard so much about it, from both his mother and his brothers. Although, what he heard from his brothers made him less excited and more nervous, if anything.

He closed his suitcase one final time before grabbing the handle and going downstairs to join his family.

Francis Bonnefoy couldn't help but feel a bit bitter. It was just his luck that his Papa would decide to make him go to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons, where his Maman went to school. He had gotten a letter of acceptance from both schools a couple days before his birthday, and it had taken almost two month for his Papa to convince Maman to force him to go. He shouldn't have had high hopes, though. The only proper argument he could make for not going was, "The food will be horrible!"

There was a quiet but audible knock on his door. He turned around to see his six year-old step brother, Matthew, who was holding his stuffed bear close to his chest. "Big brother?" he asked softly, rubbing his eyes.

Francis smiled and walked over to him. "Yes, Matthieu?"

"How long will you be gone?" He looked up at him.

He sighed. "I'll be gone for a couple months." Mattie frowned. "But I'll be home in time for Christmas!" Francis said in an attempt to cheer his little brother up. "And, when I come back, we can spend as much time together as you want!"

That seemed to cheer him up, because Mattie's frown was replaced with a smile. "Promise?"

He smiled and hugged him. "I promise, Matthieu."

"Francis, dear?" their mother called from downstairs. "The train leaves an hour! Please hurry down quickly!"

Francis sighed. "I have to finish packing, then I'll meet you all downstairs, okay?" He let go of the hug.

"Okay, Francis!" Matthew ran downstairs.

Francis looked through his suitcase one last time. The only reason he wasn't completely dreading Hogwarts was because he would get to spend everyday with his two best friends, Antonio Fernández and Gilbert Beilschmidt. He looked at a photo of the three of them that he kept on his dresser. The three were laughing, probably at something Gilbert had just said.

He closed the suitcase and ran downstairs, ready for the next phase of his life.