Hogwarts
Having to walk into a wall was a strange concept. All to get to a train platform? What if she got hurt? Her mum says it doesn’t even hurt. But she doesn’t believe it, there’s no way walking into a wall doesn’t.
All her stuff was on a cart. And a cat! She had told her mum about wanting a cat and she got one! Her mum said it was a going away gift, since she’ll be staying at Hogwarts for the year. She doesn’t plan on going back over the breaks, she’d be at her dad’s house if she were to do that. Her dad doesn’t like cats.
She named hers Stella, because it has black fur that’s dotted with white. It looked like the stars, so she thought it was fitting.
Freya swallows down the nerves she didn’t have a moment before as she turns to her mother and younger sister. Eliana looks like she’s about to burst into tears, the girl was acting like she’d never see her again.
“I’ll write,” she tells them, forcing a smile. Not that she wasn’t sad to leave, but more she didn’t know what to say. “If I remember.”
She takes a deep breath before walking through the wall between platforms nine and ten. It felt weird, like her body was all tingly but just for a second before it goes back to normal. The platform is crowded and noisy, and her body freezes up momentarily. The sound overwhelming her before she’s snapped out of it by a porter asking if they could take her stuff. What’s up with people interrupting her inner monologue? It’s getting annoying.
She nods quickly, feeling small suddenly. She’s not sure why, it’s their job. Maybe it’s the new school nerves. But at least everyone will have these nerves, no one in her year will have been to Hogwarts before. She’s worried over nothing, really.
Freya looks around, she feels so lost all of a sudden. She should’ve asked her mother to come with her. But those feelings are quickly smothered as she forces herself to push through the crowd with a lot of “excuse me”’s and “sorry”’s before she steps onto the train. She walks past some booths with people in it. One catches her eye, a booth with three boys and one girl. They don’t seem to be agreeing on something that’s said.
The girl is quite pretty, she notes before moving along and entering the empty next to the one she was just observing. She struggles for a moment before putting her bag up on the overhead storage and sitting against the window. It’s quiet for a few moments as she stares blankly, waiting for the train to start moving. That’s her plan. Sit and stare in silence.
Well, it seems like that plan was not going to happen as someone sliding the door open caught her attention. A scrawny looking boy, he had quite a few scars, she couldn’t help but wonder where he got them.
She doesn’t ask though, that would be rude. She does have manners after all. She just stares at him, waiting for him to speak.
“Uhm, sorry,” the boy says. “All the other ones are full… Can I sit here?”
Freya thinks for a moment, it would be rude to decline. But she would prefer to be alone.
After an extra moment, just to make the boy feel awkward, she nods. “Yeah.”
The boy puts his stuff in the overhead storage before sitting down opposite her. She considers making small talk, it would be nice to make a friend. Unless he turned out to be annoying, then there would be no way she’d tolerate him. She looked at him for a moment, this silence might kill her, it was suffocating.
“What’s your name?” she asks, shifting to face him properly. “I’m Freya.”
The boy hesitates. Was she intimidating? She probably was as intimidating as an eleven year girl could get. She tilts her head to the side as she waits for the boy to answer her question. A simple one.
“Remus.” he finally says.
Freya decides this would be a good time to voice her first impression. “Well, Remus, you seem very timid to me.” she starts. “Am I scary?”
Remus seems to bristle at the words. Did she strike a nerve? Freya adds ‘sensitive’ to her mental notes about this guy. He opens his mouth to respond but she looks away and he promptly shuts his mouth. She silently curses herself, that wasn’t polite of her, she isn’t used to being nice to people. They’re not normally nice to her. Well, that’s one person crossed off her list of potential friends.
The rest of the trip is spent in awkward silence, a person popping in every so often, before they change into their robes and soon enough the train ride is over. Well, one boy did pop in and sit with them for a moment, said the people in his compartment were annoying him. Milo, he said his name was.
They exit the Hogwarts Express and that Remus boy disappears into the sea of students. There’s a voice shouting for first years to go to him and she makes her way over. Boats were an interesting way to travel. She wasn’t fond. She’s not fond of a lot of things about this place so far, she realises. The lake is dark, and the sky reflects off it. She thinks it’s quite pretty.
She wonders if the lake had mermaids. Would they be as pretty as they are in her picture books?
The castle, though. It comes into view and Freya feels like the air has been sucked from her lungs. It’s gorgeous. Words don’t do it justice. In the low light it looks breath-takingly beautiful. Her thoughts aren’t even coherent anymore. She finds herself smiling when her brain finally starts processing it, realising this is where she’ll be spending most of the next seven years of her life. She’ll make friends this time, she’ll enjoy school.
Her brain short-circuits upon entering and her steps stutter slightly. She almost trips over her feet, that would be mortifying. She’d never recover. Ever. Her palms feel sweaty, she wipes them on her robes as she follows the Professor. The Sorting Ceremony , it’s meant to be a silly little community building thing.
But Freya’s been hearing people say things. That Slytherin is evil, Hufflepuff is for idiots, Ravenclaws are all stuck up snobs, and Gryffindor is cool. Why is Gryffindor the cool one? Well, she did hear someone say it was for egotistical pricks. The main consensus, she’s noticed, is that most people seem to dislike Slytherin. The house of bad witches and wizards.
She suddenly finds herself hoping she’s not in Slytherin. Would people hate her simply because of the house she’s put in? Are the ones in there really as bad as they say?
The Great Hall is, for lack of better word, great. There are floating candles and the ceiling looks like the sky, it’s bewitched to look like that. She read about it. Maybe one day she’ll be able to make her house look this pretty if she learns these spells. There are four long tables, one for each house. And a hat. The Sorting Hat.
Guess what it does.
It sorts people. Into one of the houses.
Some names get called up. The Hat takes longer to decide on some than others. There’s a mix of houses, mainly Gryffindors she’s noticed. Some of the other houses, but they’ve not gotten through that many names yet. So she guesses it’s suspected.
“Freya Lyon!”
Freya’s eyes snap up when Professor McGonanagal calls her name as she awkwardly makes her way up to the stool and sits down. The Hat gets placed on her head and she tenses up.
“What should I do with you, hm? Intelligent, I sense, a good intuition." The Hat’s voice was ringing in her ears and she didn’t know whether to respond. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to as the hat started speaking. “A reserved one, I see. Quiet, a hint of snark I feel. Well, where to put you…”
Freya can’t help but not want to be in Slytherin. She’s never been like this before, never cared this much about how others perceive her.
The Hat seems to hear her thoughts. “Ah, why not? It would suit you, really. Help you succeed.”
“So be it,”
There’s a pause.
“Slytherin!”
Her brain stops for a moment, and she forces a smile as she makes her way to sit down at the long table. She could get used to being a Slytherin. If everyone in her hometown viewed her as weird, she’s sure these people might understand her. But there’s a lump in her throat and she can’t help but be worried that people won’t like her because of this.
A boy sat next to her after a few more minutes, she recognised him as the boy from the train, he was the one sat next to the girl she thought was pretty. She couldn’t tell him that, though, she’d sound like a creep. She’s stopped listening to the names now, she’s opted for staring at her plate instead.
Officially, she’s decided, if she ever comes near that stupid hat again, she’ll burn it.
It’s been a few weeks and she’s started to notice people have already made friends and have decided who’s popular and who isn’t. She can already see the popular groups, the unpopular ones, and the ones in between. She doesn’t understand how people make friends so quickly.
She hasn’t made any.
There are four boys. Remus is in that group. They're already quite popular. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. The last two seem to just tag along, but she can tell James and Sirius are friends. Well, if they’re friends with Remus, she can confidently say they don’t like her. She’ll never talk to them anyway, so really, it’ll be fine.
Besides, they seem pretty preoccupied making fun of that boy that was with the pretty girl. She learnt their names recently. Lily Evans, and Severus Snape. She’s not sure why they’re mean to Severus, to Freya he seems quite nice. Maybe she’ll talk to him. They could be friends.
It’s later that evening when she gets an opportunity. Severus was with his other friends, and Freya decides against approaching, it’s not like they scare her but she’s definitely not going to them. She wonders how they became friends. Surely it is as simple as asking someone to be friends, how hard can it be?
Oh well, her eyes scan the common room,maybe she can find another first year to befriend. All the girls have friends, and she doesn’t particularly want to approach a guy. It seems like that might have to be the solution.
There is a boy she notices, he looks scarier than all the first years combined. It’s only one guy, so it wasn’t so bad.
She approaches him, holding out a hand. “Hi, I’m Freya,” she starts “I noticed you were alone, uhm, anyway, I think we should be friends.”
The boy glances at her hand before his eyes flicker to her face. He gingerly reaches his hand to shake hers, his face made it seem like it was the worst thing to ever happen to him.
“Dimuzi.”
His name just screamed that he rich kid, Freya was starting to regret approaching him. She shouldn't judge from looks, she supposes. He might be nice.
“I have friends, I do not need more.”
Ouch. Remind Freya to never ever approach anyone again.
“Oh,” she quickly retracts her hand and looks away. “Okay.”
The boy simply nods, and she scowls to herself. Her ‘absolutely not possible friends’ list has increased to a total of five.
She decides to add some mental notes to ‘Dimuzi’, she thinks she might hate him the most so far. She was trying to be nice this time, and he just shut her down. She wonders how he even has friends if this is how he acts. Her hands close to fists by her side as she leaves the common room and heads to her dorm. She pushes the door open and flops down onto her bed, curling up on it as her cat approaches her.
Why was she so bad at making friends?
“I don’t get it, Stella,” she whispers. “Why is it hard for me to make friends? I’m trying my best.”
Her throat feels dry, and she feels the tears well up in her eyes. Why is she crying over this? It’s only been a few weeks, she can still make friends. She hugs her cat closer to her body as she presses her face against the fur. The one person she tried to become friends with put her down without a second thought, and that really hurt. It’s only one guy, she can make more friends.
She was crying over one person not wanting to be her friend. It was someone from her own house so it can’t even be a silly house competition or rivalry. It was something with her. What was wrong with her? Why has she never been able to make friends?
She chokes back a sob, she was so pathetic. All these kids here seem so mature and grown up, and she can’t understand why she isn’t like that too. She rubs furiously at her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She lets go of Stella in the process, and the cat scampers out of her grip. It makes her feel worse somehow, her own cat probably thinks she’s pathetic. Great. It’s okay, she tells herself, she can make other friends.
But what if they all react the same way as Dimuzi?
What if they all have friends and don’t need someone like her?
Maybe it’s better for her to be alone.
She’s not going to think like that, no. Not because of one person. She can still make friends. Anyone can make friends, it’s never too late, right?
She just can’t bring herself to try and befriend anyone else, it’s been a whole week. She’s sure she looks like a lost cause, like a lost puppy trailing after nothing in particular. She gets close, but everyone already seems so happy. She’s sitting in the library, staring at the page of a book. She’s not reading anything, but her eyes are taking in the words. It’s only been a month but it feels like ages. It’s Halloween soon.
She closes her book and stands up. When she exits the library a voice catches her attention.
“Freya Lyon,” Her name was said with a mockingly sarcastic drawl. “Still having trouble making friends?”
She doesn’t acknowledge it. She ignores the voice and keeps walking. It doesn’t drown out, though. They were following her. She didn’t realise people noticed she wanted friends, she didn’t realise they found her isolation amusing.
“Don’t be like that, we want to talk.”
Freya knows that, but she doesn't turn around. She won't look at them. She won't let them see the flush of embarrassment that tints her cheeks. She's a big girl, after all. She wonders if they do this to other students. She'd feel really pathetic if it was just her, not that it would be any better if they were teasing others too.
She turns corner, and corner, she goes up stairs, and down them. And when she finally looks over her shoulder, they’re gone. It must be boring trying to get a reaction out of someone who seemingly doesn't care. They would’ve had a field day if they kept at it a bit longer, she blinks back the tears stinging her eyes before shutting them tightly and slumps against a nearby wall.
She takes a deep breath composing herself before anyone notices. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry again over the fact that she can't make friends. She didn’t plan on letting them make her cry. Let alone have the satisfaction to see it.
Still, she doesn’t think they’re bad guys.
They’re just kids, like she is.
Kids aren’t mean. Not on purpose, they do it because they think it’s funny. They’re not trying to hurt her.