Rowan moved down the train corridor, Athena's cage in hand, looking for a compartment. Most were already full. Pure-blood families traveling together, groups of friends from previous years.
Then he found one that was only partially occupied. Three students in ordinary clothes sat with books already spread before them. Two girls and a boy, all roughly his age, none wearing the distinctive house colors that would mark them as returning students.
Rowan slid the door open. "Mind if I join you?"
One of the girls looked up. She had dark skin, intelligent eyes, and braided hair pulled back neatly. "Another early arrival? Come in, there's plenty of room. I'm Celeste Pembroke."
They traded names as Rowan settled into a seat and stored Athena's cage overhead. Iris Caldwell was pale with auburn hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose, quiet in the way that suggested she was listening more carefully than anyone realised. Edmund Haggarty had sandy brown hair that stuck up in odd directions and an earnest grin that appeared the moment Rowan sat down.
"You're Muggleborn, aren't you?" Edmund said. "I saw you at the barrier. You had that look, like you weren't entirely sure the wall wasn't going to stay solid."
"It crossed my mind." Rowan liked him immediately. "Rowan Ashcroft. I'm from the Foundling Hospital."
"The orphanage?" Celeste looked him over with frank curiosity. "Those aren't cheap clothes, though. You've done well for yourself somewhere along the way."
Rowan explained briefly about writing for the Times, opinion pieces on politics and philosophy that had paid well enough to build a modest savings before his letter arrived.
"The Times?" Iris leaned forward, her shyness forgotten. "They let you write for them at eleven?"
"I wrote anonymously. They didn't know my age." Rowan saw no reason to hide it. These three seemed trustworthy, and building alliances early would be valuable.
"That's brilliant," Edmund said admiringly. "I can barely write a coherent essay for my tutors, and you were publishing political commentary." He paused. "I'm half-blood, by the way. Father's pure-blood, mother's Muggleborn. They're quite progressive, which isn't always popular with the old families."
"My mother's a witch, father's Muggle," Celeste said. "And I've already decided I don't care what the pure-blood supremacists think."
"Good attitude," Rowan said. "Though we'll need to be careful. Professor Weasley mentioned prejudice is common in the wizarding world."
"She warned me too," Iris said quietly. "Said we should expect hostility but that Hogwarts doesn't tolerate discrimination. Which is reassuring enough while we're here, I suppose. But we won't be at Hogwarts forever, will we?"
The train lurched into motion. Through the window, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters slid away as the Hogwarts Express began its journey north.
They fell into easy conversation. Iris asked pointed questions about magical society that Edmund answered with patient enthusiasm. Celeste revealed a sharp analytical mind when she spoke. Rowan found himself actually enjoying their company. These three seemed genuine, not trying to manipulate or use him.
The conversation drifted to houses eventually, as it was bound to. Celeste was hoping for Gryffindor but said she'd take Hufflepuff over Slytherin any day, given what she'd heard about the pure-blood culture there. Edmund thought that was mostly fair but pointed out that his father said it's foolish to write off everyone in a group because of its worst members. He expected Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw himself, and seemed genuinely content with either.
"I just want to fit in somewhere," Iris said, more to the window than to any of them. "Anywhere that'll have me."
Rowan thought Ravenclaw was the most likely fit for himself, and said so without elaborating on why. The others didn't press him.
"Have any of you practiced magic yet?" Edmund asked. "I know we're not supposed to, but I couldn't resist trying a few simple spells."
"Same," Rowan admitted. "I started with Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa. Figured if I was going to risk Ministry detection, might as well learn something useful."
Edmund's eyes lit up. "Did you manage the Levitation Charm? I can barely get a feather to wobble."
"It's all about the visualization. The swish-and-flick is important, but you have to really feel the magic wrapping around the object, and imagine it becoming lighter. Intent matters as much as technique."
The compartment door slid open, interrupting their discussion. A plump witch with a kind face pushed a trolley laden with sweets.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Rowan had never seen such an array of strange confections. There were Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and Liquorice Wands.
He bought a Chocolate Frog and some Pumpkin Pasties, as did the others. When the witch left, Edmund opened his Chocolate Frog package and the frog immediately leaped for the window. He caught it just in time.
"They're actually enchanted to hop?" Rowan asked, fascinated.
"Just once," Edmund said, taking a bite. "After that they're just chocolate. The cards inside are the real prize. Famous witches and wizards. I'm trying to collect them all."
They shared sweets and compared cards. Rowan got Morgana, Edmund got Circe, Celeste got Paracelsus, and Iris got Cliodna. The train carried them north through the English countryside.
The hours passed quickly. They discussed everything from magical theory to speculation about professors to their hopes and fears for the year ahead. The landscape outside shifted from rolling fields to wilder terrain, then to mountains as they crossed into Scotland.
As the light faded and the Scottish mountains grew closer, a prefect's voice echoed down the corridor: "First years, change into your school robes! We'll be arriving shortly!"
Rowan retrieved his plain black robes from his trunk. The temporary robes for unsorted students. The others did the same, and they took turns changing in the compartment, the girls stepping out into the corridor while the boys changed, then switching.
When they were all dressed, Rowan looked down at the plain black fabric. It felt strange after his well-fitted clothes, but there was something equalizing about it. Here, at least for tonight, they were all the same. Just unsorted first years waiting to find where they belonged.
"We're almost there," Iris said, peering out the window. "Look. You can see the lake."
Rowan pressed his face to the glass. In the fading light, he could just make out a vast expanse of dark water surrounded by mountains.