Florens stepped off the train clutching the strap of his satchel tightly. People passed by, pushing and shoving, some were chatting with friends, others hurriedly made their way to the carriages pulled by nearly skeletal, winged horses. None of the students gave a second glance to the small boy, nearly a head shorter than the rest.
“All first years on the boats!” A voice boomed from the crowd.
Florens saw some kids in the crowd shift directions, he followed suit. He swiped his blond curl out of his eye, debating on putting his headband on. But soon enough all thoughts of that were pushed to the side as he quite literally was.
“Watch where you’re going, pipsqueak.” A voice hissed. Florens could easily tell who it was, from the malice in his voice and his quite distinctive white hair. Draco Malfoy, the boy his mother warned him to stay away from. He could practically hear her now:
‘Nasty folk they is, the Malfoys. Try an avoid ‘em best as you can, sugar.’
Luckily Malfoy seemed to have moved on, not bothering to stay in the presence of such a loser, Florens assumed. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to a different boat that didn’t house Malfoy. He was ushered to climb on by an incredibly burly man, whose raggedy beard and hair took up nearly 90 percent of his face.
“Off ye go, lil’n.” His voice was just as rough as you would expect. But Florens could tell the softness to it, much like his mother’s. He was immediately interested in this gentle giant.
Sadly he had no time to chat as he clambered aboard, nearly face planting onto the bottom of the boat. The boy chuckled nervously as his face flushed slightly, light freckles becoming more prominent with the color. He scratched his head and sat next to what looked to be an equally nervous boy. He introduced himself to be Neville Longbottom through sea sick groans.
The boat hadn’t even started moving yet.
Florens rifled through his satchel and pulled out a curled root. It branched off at some points and curled into itself, some of the branch ends looked like they had been gnawed on.
“Here, water lily root. Best remedy ’ve found so far fir motion sickness. Just chew on one of the ends while we ride, so long as you don’t mind that it’s used on some bits, f’course.”
Neville nodded his head frantically and snatched the root from Florens mumbling a thank you and began chewing on an untouched branch. Florens just giggled in amusement, his unnaturally green eyes lighting up even more than usual.
As they began moving, Florens attention was taken off the funny boy and turned to the beautiful sight in front of them. The castle was huge, towers branching off from all ends that seemed to reach the heavens. The lake they were on sparkled with the light of the moon. The small lamps held by one person in each boat cast a warm hue on the students. Beyond the lake was a forest, tall and expansive. Florens felt his whole body tingle with excitement at the sight. He couldn’t wait to explore.
He made note of all the flora he saw on the water's edge and the shallow ends when they approached the bank. Eyes roamed around at every little detail, taking it all in. Florens couldn’t believe this would be his home for the next seven years.
They all began their walk up the path to the doors and Florens squealed quite loudly when he was the Whomping Willow. He was given a strange look but he didn’t care. He had heard about the Whomping Willow in his books, as well as his older sister. Florens had been incredibly excited to see it in person. The small boy had to resist the urge to go over and study it. There were more important things to focus on right now.
The group made their way, Florens sticking close to Neville, the only familiar face, and soon enough came upon the large doors of the castle. It was even more magnificent up close. The stony building stood tall and proud, the cold stone pushing against the raging winds, fighting back. Even with all the warm bodies surrounding Florens, he could still feel the chill of the stone. Things unsaid, things that should’ve been, and things yet to be discovered.
He felt the rush of it all.
Hagrid (Florens had finally learned the gentle giant’s name) pushed open the ornate iron doors easily twice the size of the large man. As they all shuffled in Florens simply followed blindly, it was hard to see where they were going with everyone’s bodies blocking his sight. So instead he drowned out the directions people were yelling, the students chatter, and the nervous buzz in the air. He looked up, marveled at the stone staircases that moved to and fro. There were paintings that hung from the walls, the inhabitants watching the new students closely as they shuffled in. Some watched judgingly, others adoringly. One caught Florens’ eye and waved. He gave a shy wave back.
The scene above shifted, the night sky was shown above, but there was no chill in the air. Instead floating candles roamed the sky, like mock stars amongst the real thing.
“It’s a spell,” Neville muttered in awe, “lets us see right through the roof.”
It was then that Florens checked back into the space around them. The noise had grown substantially, students all sat at one of four tables, their robes assigned with one of four colors. Green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw, and yellow for Hufflepuff.
Florens knew his family were famously Hufflepuffs. Nearly all of them had ended up in that house. Though it was always pleasant to see one branch off. There were so many people Florens tried to look over their shoulders but couldn’t make out the face of his sister.
But soon all the first years were standing in front of the tables, on a small rickety stool sat an even ricketier wizards had. Behind that was a long table stretching across the room facing everyone. This held all the teachers of the school, some looked kind, others crazed, just a few scary, but overall Florens couldn’t wait to ask them everything about everything.
A woman in the later years of her life stood in front of the crowd, next to her lay the stool and hat. In one hand she held a scroll with a firm grasp, the other lay beside her. Her hair was dark grey with white streaks. Her nose sharp and crooked, eyes nearly the same. Florens could sense a motherly vibe from her, but more strict, precise, and to the point.
Soon her voice boomed out across the room, “Children! Children! May I have your attention please!” It was older, with an edge to it, nearly like every word was spoken with a slight whine, like it was hard to do. “Now is time to begin the sorting ceremony!”
The students all cheered at their tables while all the first years seemed to be drowning in fear. Well… most… Malfoy looked quite confident in himself.
Soon enough it all quieted down. It was time.
The first years all shuffled forward as McGonagall began.
“Now when I call your name, you shall come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head,” She lifted the hat in one hand, “and you will be sorted into your houses.”
And so it began. Hermione Granger was first, Gryffindor. Malfoy, Slytherin. Susan Bones, Hufflepuff. Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor. Harry Potter (This name piqued many an interest), Gryffindor. Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw. Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor.
“Florens Arbor.”
Florens felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach do a flip. It shouldn’t be so nerve racking, but it was. Along with your house came the stereotypes that you would now and forever be associated with. He stepped up and McGonagall gave him a small nod. The boy turned around and sat on the stool, all eyes were on him, he felt his cheeks flush.
The hat was placed on his head and then he heard it, a gruff old voice.
‘Hmmm, another one of you, ey? I know what- Oh? But there’s…interesting. Very interesting.. no no that won't do. Instead I think… yes… yes that’ll do-’
“RAVENCLAW”
The voice shouted for all to hear in the hall. Everyone clapped and there were quite a few hollers from the Ravenclaw table. Florens made his way to the table hurriedly, glad to be out of the spotlight. One older boy patted him on the back,
“Welcome to the club shortie.” He laughed
“Well you know…” A voice rang out beside him, small, soft, but had a draw to it that you couldn’t resist. “People that are shorter than average are less likely to be attacked by Qualischiflers in their sleep. Something about the bone marrow tasting different.”
The older boy turned away having been weirded out. But Florens turned to the odd white haired girl next to him.
“You’re my friend now. Pleeeeaaase tell me more about the qualifiers-“
“Qualischiflers.”
“Right that.”