Who the Hell Are You?
Harry and I were left alone at King’s Cross station with only ten minutes until our train was due to leave, and we had no idea how to find it.
“Platform nine and three quarters? Do you know where that is?” Harry asked me.
“Sorry, Harry, I am just as confused as you are. I have never taken a train before,” I say as I look around the station, trying to determine where the platform would most likely be. My black cat – whom I had settled on calling Zuri – let out a whine of impatience, unhappy about the lack of attention she was receiving. I picked her up, scratching under her chin to satisfy her cries. “Perhaps we should try to find some other wizards or witches, surely, they will be able to point us in the right direction.”
“Everyone looks the same, though,” whined Harry. “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask that officer over there?” he pointed to a chubby-looking man in a blue suit and checkered cap.
“Harry, we are taking a train to a magical school which is kept secret from the muggles. Do you really think an officer would know how to get there?”
“Well, he might,” Harry defended indignantly. “He could be a wizard for all we know.”
I was quickly losing my patience with the boy, in part because we now only had six minutes to find the train. “Fine,” I partially relented. “You go see what the officer knows, and I will look for other witches and wizards.”
“Fine.” Harry turned quickly on his heel and began walking towards the officer, a determined look on his face
‘Alright, who looks like they could be a wizard,’ I think to myself, looking around, trying to spot anyone who might actually be able to help us. Then I spot them, a group of ginger-haired kids all following their mother through the station, looking ruffled and frantic like they were running late for something. As they came closer to where I was standing, I attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation to see if I could confirm if they were witches and wizards.
“It’s the same every year, packed with Muggles,” exclaimed the older ginger-haired woman, clearly frustrated by the crowd that pushed past the family. “Platform 9 and 3 quarters, this way.”
‘Yes! They know the way to the platform.’ I turn to call Harry, whom I see is now very red-faced as he watches the officer he’d asked for help angrily walk away, leaving him stranded in the middle of the platforms.
“Harry! Over here! That family over there knows the way to the platform, we need to follow them.”
Harry ran over to me with his trolley, I helped him push it since it had both of our things inside. Together we chased after the family, hoping that we wouldn’t lose them in the crowd. We caught up to them just as the two twin boys, each with their own loaded trolleys, ran into a seemingly solid brick wall between the platforms of 9 and 10.
“Excuse me,” piped up Harry, bravely gathering enough courage for his second attempt at asking for help. “Could you tell us how to…?” he gestured at the brick wall, suddenly at a loss for words as he couldn’t comprehend what the two boys had just done.
“How to get onto the platform,” the woman said kindly, giving Harry a motherly smile. “Not to worry, dears. It’s Ron’s first time to Hogwarts as well.” She gestured to the young boy standing to our left. He was tall and covered in freckles, much like the rest of his family. However, he looked much more terrified than the rest of them. His whole face was pale, and he looked as if he was going to puke. “All you do is walk straight at the wall between platforms 9 and 10,” she continued. “Best to run if you’re nervous. Who would like to go first? You or your lovely friend?”
‘Friend?’ Despite the woman having no way to tell if Harry and I were related, I couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at the assumption.
“I’ll go!” said Harry. I was not sure if he volunteered because he was brave and excited about the challenge or if he just wanted to impress us. Either way, he grabbed the trolley and ran towards the wall, disappearing through the magical gateway that would begin our journey to Hogwarts. The remaining ginger boy followed him, disappearing as well through the wall.
Before I began my run, I turned to the woman and the daughter who accompanied her. “Thank you for helping us; we would have had trouble finding the platform without you.”
The woman’s eyes widened, taken aback for some reason I couldn’t fathom. “It’s no problem at all,” she said. “Might I ask, though, dear, where you’re from? I don’t think I’ve heard an accent quite like yours before.”
“Of course. I was born here in the UK, but I was primarily raised in Zimbabwe and Uganda. That is where I get my accent from.”
“Are you really? That’s amazing,” said the little girl beside the woman, staring up at me in awe.
“It’s certainly something,” the woman said. “You must tell us all about it sometime. Right now, though, you should hurry through to the platform. The train won’t wait, so you mustn’t dawdle. Hurry up now.”
I braced myself as I ran towards the wall, half expecting that my body would slam into it rather than phase through it. But the impact never came. Instead, I found myself standing on another platform, even more crowded than the ones I had previously passed. The train was already here, a great red steam train with the name ‘Hogwarts Express’ stuck on its front.
There was no sign of Harry anywhere. I let out a huff of frustration. There was no time to search the crowd for him, so I had to hope he was already on the train. At this point, though, I didn’t really feel like finding him. I was, in all honesty, too irritated with my brother to attempt to bond with him, so when I boarded the train, I went to sit in an empty compartment. I was glad I had kept with me the bag that held all my books because I would have been quite bored without them. Settling down into my seat, I took out my history book and began to read. I was barely a few pages I when I heard voices approaching my compartment.
“There’s gotta be no one inside this one,” said a boy from outside.
“Even if there is, I’ll kick ‘em out,” said another, sliding the door open as the other boys laughed.
“Well, that is rude.” I didn’t so much as glance up from my book as I spoke.
The boys stood at the door, shocked at my bold statement. None of them made a move to sit in the compartment with me or to kick me out, despite the claim they had made before.
“Wait! It’s you!” one of the boys exclaimed. “Guys, it’s the girl from the bookstore I was telling you about before. The one who performed the summoning charm.”
I looked up at this, my mouth turning up into a smirk, recognising the boy who had spoken. “Well, if it isn’t the book stealer. Nice to see you again Nott.”
He glared at me, frowning at the name I had called him. “Let’s find somewhere else to sit,” he told his friends, trying to push them out of the compartment.
“Hey!” they protested. “Who is she?”
Theo paused. He didn’t know the answer to that question either. He kept on shoving them out, though, struggling as the boys would not budge.
“Leaving so soon?” I called after them. “You have not even introduced me to your friends Theodore. Well, I suppose I could try to figure them out myself. Now let’s see…”
Theodore had stopped pushing the boys as they had kept trying to poke their heads in, curious to see what I would say next.
“Well, it is obvious you are all Purebloods, I doubt Theodore would have friends who were not. Hmmm…” I paused to ponder my next words. This was fun, I liked messing with them, but I needed to be careful about what I revealed. I did not want them to know who I was just yet.
“You are a Malfoy,” I said, pointing at the boy with slicked-back bleach-blond hair. “Draco, I presume?” The boy’s eyes widened in response, and his mouth dropped wide open. He began to splutter but couldn’t seem to get any words out. “And you,” I said, pointing to the well-dressed lad who stood on the left side of the door. He was wearing a brooch with what looked to be a gold family crest on it. “You must be Lorenzo Berkshire.”
“How did you…” he stuttered, looking a little scared.
“Only sons of Lords wear crests like that,” I explained pointedly. He seemed to relax a little at the explanation but still looked quite tense. “Now, I seem to recall the Malfoy’s looking after two other children. Two brothers, in fact. That must be you two.” I gestured towards a boy with thick curly hair, messy and untamed, and another boy with hair of inky black who stood straight and proud and yet seemed almost entirely uninterested in the conversation taking place.
“I am guessing you are Mattheo Riddle,” I said to the first boy, figuring that the name would belong to him since he seemed the least like his father. He nodded slowly, looking quite amused as he scanned me up and down, as if looking for a notepad or magical artefact that could have been telling me their names. The attempt would have been in vain, though, for I was not using any magic for this trick. “That must make you Tom, then,” I acknowledged the second boy, who quirked an eyebrow, looking somewhat impressed despite his apparent indifference.
“How the hell do you know all our names?” Draco finally managed to hiss out, overcoming his previous shock.
“I do not know all your names,” I said teasingly, looking up at them with an air of innocence. “I have no idea who he is.” I nodded towards the boy who had a shaved head, his skin tone making it difficult to tell if he had any hair at all.
“I’m Blaise. Blaise Zabini,” he said, looking quite pleased that he was the only one whose name I did not know.
“Pleasure.”
“Well, now you know all our names, so who the hell are you?” Theo asked, his eagerness for answers overshadowing his frustration and shock.
Before I could figure out how to avoid the question, a bushy-haired girl barged past the guys and into the compartment, turning to face all of us as she spoke. “Has anyone seen a toad?” she asked with an air of superiority and importance. “A boy named Neville’s lost one.”
“A toad?” Enzo asked, his nose scrunched up as a slight look of disgust grew on his face.
“Haven’t seen one, now get out,” dismissed Tom rudely, rolling his eyes as if the frazzled state of the girl displeased him.
The girl gasped and looked as if she was going to cry. Her eyes moistened, and she wiped them on her sleeve as she turned to leave.
“Wait!” I said, grabbing her shoulder and preventing her from leaving. “I'll help you look. The guys wanted this compartment to themselves anyway.”
“Really? You want to help?” she looked at me gratefully, smiling a little as I softly took her hand.
“You don’t have to leave,” spoke up Lorenzo. “There’s plenty of room for all seven of us, I’m sure we’d all really love to get to know you.” Mattheo and Blaise nodded in agreement whilst Theo let out a huff of annoyance.
“No, that is alright. I want to help… Sorry, what was your name?”
“Hermione.”
“Yes, I want to help Hermione find Neville’s toad. Do not worry, though. I am sure there will be plenty of opportunity to get to know each other at Hogwarts.” I winked, grabbing my bag as I followed Hermione out into the hallway, leaving the stunned boys behind as they stood gaping as we walked away, our arms now linked together.
Theo’s POV//
We piled into the compartment together, not saying a word as we were still comprehending the interaction we had just experienced with the strange girl.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, punching the wall above my seat. “I can’t believe she was able to avoid telling me who she was. Again! That’s the second time this week!” The girl was sly and quite proficient at steering the conversation the way she wanted it. It infuriated me, and yet it also made me curious. I’d never met someone I could match wits with. Well, maybe Tom, but he wasn’t much for banter.
“Well, she’s clearly not a Mudblood, like you said,” stated Draco, holding his chin in thought. “I’m not sure yet if I like her or not, though.”
“I think she’s great,” piped Mattheo. “That was hilarious, you should’ve seen your reactions when she correctly guessed who we were.” He suddenly burst into loud, boisterous laughter. “That’s the look, right there,” he said, pointing at Draco, who quickly scowled back at him.
“That is the question, though, isn’t it?” said Lorenzo, looking quite puzzled. “I mean, how did she know our names? I’d understand if she was familiar with the Pureblood families, but she doesn’t even sound as if she lives in London.”
“She doesn’t. She came from Africa,” I confirmed. I had been wondering the same thing. It was like she already knew everything about us. To be honest, it was quite unnerving.
“Then how does she know our family names?”
We again sat in silence. No one could answer that question.
“Well, at least we can learn her name at the sorting ceremony,” said Blaise. “Maybe after that, we can start getting some answers.”
We all nodded in agreement, our burning desire to know the girl’s name making the rest of the train ride all the more tedious.
Astrid’s POV//
We didn’t end up finding Neville’s toad. We had searched the whole train, poking our heads into every nook and cranny, trying to locate the bumpy-skinned creature, but to no avail. Neville was extremely upset about it. He was quite panicked at the thought of having to tell his Nan that he had lost his pet. Hermione and I spent half of the trip comforting him, rubbing his back and telling him it would be alright, that the toad was bound to show up somewhere.
I found out quite a few things about Hermione during our search. She was smart, if a bit of a know-it-all. I was glad, though. Thanks to the Pureblood boys, I never did have the opportunity to read my history book. Luckily for me, Hermione was a walking encyclopedia of Hogwarts history and was willing – if not a bit excited – to teach me what she knew. I also learnt that Hermione was a Muggle-born. How she found the time to learn everything about Hogwarts after she found out magic existed was beyond me, but it made her the perfect candidate to prove Theodore’s belief that non-Pureblood students were weak wrong. And I was determined to prove him wrong.
After the train had completed its journey, we followed Hagrid to the boats that took us to Hogwarts. Me, Hermione and Neville chose a boat together with some other first-years, and I could see my brother get in the one next to us with the ginger boy from before. ‘Well, at least he didn’t get lost,’ I thought. I was still a little miffed at him, so I chose not to call out or wave to let him know that I had made it too.
Entering the castle, we were led to a staircase that stood in front of a large wooden door where a stern-looking witch stood stiffly looking down at us. She wore a small smile, though. The corners of her mouth were turned up despite the neutral expression on her face. Hagrid introduced her as Professor McGonagall before leaving us in her care.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she greeted as we formed a small crowd near the top of the staircase. “Shortly, you’ll pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.” I looked around at the first years around me and spotted Lorenzo making his way towards me. I nodded at him as he came to stand next to me, and he gave a nod back before refocusing on the teacher.
“They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff…Ravenclaw and Slytherin,” she continued. I saw Draco standing on the other side of the staircase next to two boys I had yet to meet and watched him as he gave a smirk to one of the boys next to him, giving a knowing nod. ‘Of course, he wants to be Slytherin,’ I think, knowing that Pureblood families in Britain were known for being members of the cunning house. Not that I had anything against Slytherin. I just didn’t like its reputation.
“While you’re here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule-breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the house cup.” McGonagall paused a moment before she spoke next, but before she could get a single word out, a yell came from the centre of the crowd.
“Trevor!” Neville came running up the stairs, chasing a toad that had jumped up the stairs and was now sitting at the top of the staircase near the poor woman’s feet. “Sorry,” he said, looking quite ashamed as he collected his toad and shuffled back into the mix of students.
“Well, that solves one mystery,” whispered Lorenzo from beside me, leaning close to my ear as he spoke.
Professor McGonagall said nothing about the interruption, instead choosing to ignore it and continue her speech. “The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily,” she stated before walking through the doors in front of us, leaving us waiting on the stairs.
“It’s true then, what they’re saying on the train,” came Draco’s voice from the left side of the staircase as he walked to the top before turning to face my brother. “Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”
The people around me began to whisper, excited about meeting my brother, the boy whom they had been told stories of for their whole lives. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”
“Crabbe and Goyle?” I asked Lorenzo.
“Two idiots who tried sucking up to him.”
I huffed. “Of course they did.”
I watched as Draco held out his hand, offering his friendship and guidance to Harry despite insulting his ginger-haired friend. Weasley, I think his name was.
“Is that how he thinks he can make friends,” I again questioned Lorenzo, slightly appalled at the bleach-blonds behaviour.
“Well, he’s never made a friend before. This is just how he’s been raised.”
“I thought you and the other boys from the train were his friends?” I giggled quietly; my hand pressed to my mouth as I watched my brother reject Draco’s offer of friendship.
“Oh, we are, but we were practically raised together. Forced into proximity by our parents, so it doesn’t really count,” he said, shrugging. “He’s not that bad, though, once you get to know him.”
“I’m guessing you’d say the same for Nott?”
Lorenzo sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “I would. See, the thing is, we’re all raised by some pretty pretentious people. It’s kinda hard to escape that.”
“You seem to have done just fine, Lorenzo.”
“Please, call me Enzo. And whilst I’m not as self-important as the rest of them, it’s still hard for me to separate myself from my family’s views.”
“I see. Let us hope, then, that they will learn that their family’s ways do not have to be their own,” I said, turning back to watch Draco and Harry, who were now having some kind of stare-down.
“You know Potter,” Draco was saying to Harry. “I heard a rumour that you had a sister. Is she here? Or is she just a myth?”
I saw Harry turn, looking almost frantically around, probably trying to locate me. I guess he’d forgotten about me. It made me want to forgive him a little. All of this was very new to him. I suppose finding out he had a sister was the least of his concerns. Still, I didn’t want him to spot me, I could only imagine the stares I would get. So, checking that Lor… Enzo wasn’t looking at me, I pulled up my hood and backed further into the crowd, finding Hermione at the bottom of the stairs and standing beside her. She jumped as I tapped her on the shoulder but smiled as she recognised me. I could see Enzo looking for me at the top of the stairs, probably wondering how he had lost me. Draco was still prattling on.
“No sister, Potter? Shame. I would have liked to meet her. Perhaps she would have taken my offer.”
I let out a small sniff from my nose, highly amused by his comment. Oh, if only he knew! Oh, I was going to have fun with him.
Professor McGonagall came back through the doors just as it looked as if Harry was going to punch the pretentious boy. “We’re ready for you now. Follow me,” she announced, tapping Draco on the shoulder to make him back down.
Shuffling into the Great Hall, I could feel the stares of all the students. Suddenly conscious that I was sticking out again, I put my hood back down and began surveying the room. The ceiling was a perfect replica of the night sky, deep blue with twinkling stars that shone like crystals. Inside the room, there were four long tables, each filled with students dressed in their robes and house colours, one colour per table. We approached the back of the room, where the Professors all sat, watching us as we made our way to the stool that sat in front of them. Professor McGonagall stopped before the stool, and I noticed for the first time that there was an old, dusty-looking hat sitting on it.
“Will you wait along here, please?” she instructed, waiting until we were again crowded in front of her before speaking. “Now, before we begin…Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.”
The Professor in question rose from his chair, his long silver beard almost touching his goblet as he did so. He looked down at us with twinkling blue eyes as he addressed the school. “I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce,” he began, his voice almost echoing in the now-silent room. “The first years, please note…that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr Filch, has asked me to remind you…that the third-floor corridor is out of bounds…to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you.”
I quirked an eyebrow at that last statement. ‘Painful death? Surely, they would have dealt with any threat to student safety before the term began?’ I looked around at the students beside me, noting how they all looked wary, glancing at their friends with wide eyes as if trying to confirm that they had not just imagined the horrific warning that the rest of the school had seemed to brush off as normal.
“When I call your name, you will come forth,” McGonagall announced, re-addressing our group as she spoke. “I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head…and you will be sorted into your houses.”
One by one, each student made their way up to the seat, sitting on the small stool before the Sorting Hat assigned them their house. When it was Hermione’s turn, she began to panic. “Oh, no. Ok, relax,” she told herself sternly. I placed my hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in hope of offering the girl a small gesture of reassurance and encouragement. She turned her head and gave me a grateful smile before walking up to the hat. After about a minute, the hat sorted her into Gryffindor, and she hopped off the stool to join the table of clapping red embellished cloaks.
Not long after Hermione was sorted, Draco Malfoy was called to the stool. I was not surprised to see him almost immediately sorted into Slytherin, but I was caught off guard by a statement coming from the ginger boy who was standing next to Harry.
“Every wizard who went bad was in Slytherin,” the Weasley boy whispered, just loud enough that I could hear it from my position at the back of the crowd.
I scoffed to myself quietly. ‘You would think that someone at the receiving end of prejudice would know not to judge people for a generalisation based on what is now a minority.’
The rest of the students were cycled through quite quickly. Ron, as I found out to be the ginger’s name, was sorted into Gryffindor, Neville, now holding his toad close to his body, was also placed in the house of chivalry, and the rest of Draco’s friends were sorted into Slytherin. Harry took a little longer, the Sorting Hat going back and forth between Gryffindor and Slytherin before finally deciding on the former. The Gryffindor table erupted into the loudest cheers of the night, obviously glad to have my brother in their house. They were chanting, “We’ve got Potter! We’ve got Potter!”
I found myself quite turned off from the house at that moment. Their cheers seemed more like gloats, intended to make the other houses feel inferior due to the simple fact that they did not get to share a dorm with The Boy Who Lived.
It felt like an eternity before I was called. Name after name, McGonagall called until I was the only one left. I wondered if there was any sort of system for the list of names. I wished they had done it alphabetically.
“Astrid Potter,” the Professor called my name.
The hall went silent.
Theo’s POV//
My friends and I turned to each other, eyes widened in shock at the revelation.
“HER!” I whisper-yelled as the girl went to take a seat on the stool.
“She exists?” Draco hissed back.
Enzo rested his chin on his clasped hands, staring intently at the mysterious girl. “I see now why she avoided telling us her name,” he said. “She wouldn’t have been able to walk a single step without whispers following her if anyone had known.”
“But then, why did we only hear about Harry? Surely word would have gotten out about both of them if they got on the train together?” Mattheo interjected.
“Because they didn’t,” said Theo. Five pairs of eyes turned towards him.
“I remember now. Back in the bookstore, she told me that she was raised in Africa and attended the Uagadou school of magic for a few years. She mentioned that she was separated from her brother at a young age and that she was transferring to Hogwarts so that she could be with him again,” he explained to the confused group. “They probably didn’t get on the train together because they hardly know each other.”
“That does make sense,” said Tom, slowly. “But even if they did get on together, unless they told us, we would have had no idea they were related. They look nothing alike, and they don’t even have the same accent.”
“That’s true. Say, it’s taking an awful amount of time for her to get sorted. What house do you guys think she will get sorted into?” Blaise finally joined the conversation, his impatience showing as he wiggled in his seat. He clearly wanted to eat.
“Probably Gryffindor like her stupid brother,” Draco mumbled, sending the unknowing boy a deep glare of hatred.
“How about Hufflepuff,” suggested Mattheo. “It was nice of her to help look for the toad on the train and leave us her compartment?”
“Nah, she’s too mysterious and quick-witted for that. Plus, she only went to look for the toad because she didn’t want to answer our questions. Definitely a Ravenclaw,” said Enzo.
“Slytherin,” I said. They again turned to stare at me. “What? She’s cunning, snarky, and she must be ambitious to have moved all the way to Hogwarts.”
“I knew you secretly liked her,” teased Enzo, nudging him with his shoulder, almost pushing him into Draco.
“I don’t like her, it’s just she’s obviously a Slytherin.”
“Well, whatever house she’s in, the Sorting Hat’s having a hard time figuring it out,” said Draco, jerking his thumb towards the girl in question. “It’s been like ten minutes! Surely that’s a hatstall?”
We all turned their heads towards the waiting girl. Draco was right, it was taking longer than usual for the hat to sort Astrid Potter.
Astrid’s POV//
“Ah, you’re an interesting one you are,” the Sorting Hat hoarsely said from on top of my head. I couldn’t see any of the students who I know would have been staring at me as the hat practically covered my eyes in darkness.
“Already begun your education, I see, and as a result, you come with preferences and preconceptions.” He thought for a while before speaking next. “You have a sharp mind, oh, yes, very sharp. But your ambition also knows no bounds. You want to be the best you can be, no doubt about that, but your kindness often hinders that potential. I see you’ve had to be brave during your time in Africa, but is that who you really are? Hmmm.” I shifted uncomfortably on the stool, feeling completely exposed under the hat’s scrutiny.
“There are many traits you exhibit from each of the houses, which is not a bad thing, but it makes me wonder, where to put you?” The hat sat on my head, thinking. Minutes passed, and yet he could not figure out where to put me. The feeling of being stared at gnawed at my mind, growing the longer I sat on the small wooden stool. I decided to help him out, not wanting to be the centre of attention for much longer.
“Please, sir, just put me in the house that would benefit from me the most,” I said to him. If any of the houses would suit me, surely there was one that would benefit from having me as a member more than the others.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You could simply choose to be with your brother, and yet you risk being in a different house to him. You’d be able to spend more time with him, you know, if you choose Gryffindor.”
‘Not Gryffindor,’ I thought. ‘Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor.’
“Not Gryffindor, eh?” the hat said, too loud for my liking. I hoped that no one else had heard. “Well, if you’re sure…Better be, SLYTHERIN!”
The hall erupted with the cheers of the Slytherins. I could see Mattheo and Lorenzo jumping up and down, their hands on each other's shoulders as they yelled, “Yeeeessssss!” Draco and Tom looked impressed, clapping from where they sat, whilst Blaise just looked confused. I locked eyes with Theodore, who was the only one not clapping or cheering. He was smirking and shot me a knowing look once he realised I was looking at him.
Turning towards the Gryffindor table, I was met with a mixture of surprised and wary looks. Harry and Hermione both sat with their mouths wide open. My brother’s expression was a twisted combination of confusion and horror, whilst Hermione’s took the form of a betrayed friend. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was sorted into Slytherin or because I didn’t tell her who I was; either way, I needed to talk to her when I got the chance. I caught Ron’s eye as I passed the Gryffindor table. He was glaring at me, turning to whisper something into Harry’s ear as I took my seat at the Slytherin table next to a girl with short brunette hair.
“Hi, I’m Pansy. Pansy Parkinson,” the girl greeted, sticking out her hand as Professor Dumbledore summoned the feast.
I shook it. “It is nice to meet you, I’m–
“I know who you are,” she interrupted. “And I don’t care if you’re famous or not. You’re a Slytherin now, same as the rest of us.” She gestured towards the rest of the Slytherin table before reaching to grab the bowl of mashed potatoes.
“I could not agree more, and honestly, I just want to blend in. I already stick out too much for my liking. Could you please pass the beans?”
She handed me a plate with a pile of buttery green beans, scooping some up for herself before passing me the tongs. “I overheard Draco and his friends saying you lived in Africa. Is that true?” she asked curiously.
“Yes, among other places. Perhaps I will tell you all about it later in our dorm. I brought some sweets, you know. How about we have ourselves a little midnight feast with our dormmates? We can trade stories, then. I’d love to learn where you are from.”
Pansy’s face broke into a large grin. “Oooooo, gossip.” The brunette clasped her hands together, now looking much more interested in our conversation. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were the type. Guess I was wrong.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulder. “I think we’re gonna get along just great.”