when i stop and think about it

[Imogen Sauveterre]

It didn’t take long for Simon to disappear from her side once the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. “Good luck,” he’d said, giving Imogen a quick pat on the back before running off to meet his friends. Imogen was left alone, wide-eyed and scared, frozen solid until she heard a booming voice shouting “Firs’ years, this way! Over here, you lot!” over and over. Her heart pounding, she followed the voice and saw that it was coming from a man a good three feet taller than the tallest of students. Hagrid, Imogen thought, remembering that Simon had told her about him. He had reminded Imogen to be good and always follow curfew, because Hagrid liked to feed unruly students to the monsters in the Forbidden Forest. She didn’t want to believe that.

As much as Imogen tried, she couldn’t even find Jezebel in the mass of crowding first years. Her blonde hair should have stood out, but there were more blondes than she anticipated – was that her? … No. Bugger. Sighing, Imogen hugged her arms to her chest and tried to blend in with the crowd. As the older students disappeared into carriages – horseless carriages, she realised with a start – Hagrid continued to call until the rest of the first years showed up and gathered around him. Obediently, she followed him down to see small boats on the shore of the lake. Wait… they had to take boats across? She wondered why they didn’t take carriages with the rest of them. Was this like a first-year rite of passage sort of thing? Why hadn’t Simon told her about this? Or her mother?

Hagrid was ushering students into the boats while he took his place at the head of one; it was four to a boat, and Imogen ended up sitting next to some blonde girl (who still wasn’t Jezebel) and two boys, all of whom looked as nervous as she felt. She barely had time to notice there weren’t any paddles before the boats started toward the castle by themselves. A small thrill erupted in Imogen’s belly; her mother did some magic at home, but not much, and she didn’t see Uncle Nathaniel and Aunt Prudence enough to be truly exposed to it. It was going to be wicked, being surrounded by it all year. No wonder Simon hated the summer holidays.

It seemed as though all the other students were already inside the castle by the time the first years reached the shore. Hagrid led them up toward the doors, and Imogen only slipped and tripped twice while they made their way in darkness. Her knees were freshly skinned (why did girls have to wear skirts?) but at least her robes weren’t damaged; she adjusted them and smoothed them out while they waited in one of the hallways of the castle. A tall witch with black hair tied in a tight bun stood before them, and Imogen knew who she was before she introduced herself. Simon had told her all about Professor McGonagall, since she was his head of house, and never failed to hand out a punishment to him when he was being unruly (which was more often than he should, really). Her heart pounded harder as Professor McGonagall told them a little about the school, and about the houses they could be sorted into. Secretly, Imogen hoped for Gryffindor, like her brother; she thought it would make her parents proud. Maybe. Hopefully. Her father probably would have been a Ravenclaw, if he wasn’t a Squib, since he was really quite brainy – but he was a pushover, so he probably would have been a Hufflepuff. Her mother had been a Ravenclaw, though she didn’t hold too much esteem for her old house. When Simon wrote to tell them he was a Gryffindor, she’d lit up and said she was so very proud of him. Be brave, Imogen told herself. Just be brave, okay? That’ll get you in.

Professor McGonagall led them into the Great Hall, and now the students had to walk side-by-side in rows of two to fit between the tables. Imogen fell into step behind a dark-haired boy with big eyes, and she recognised him as one of the boys from the boat she’d been in. “Hi,” she whispered, trying not to seem awkward. She left a small pause and glanced upward, her eyes widening at the ceiling. “Oh,” she breathed, then half-smiled. “It’s enchanted. My brother has a book about Hogwarts, and I remember something about the ceiling – sorry.” she glanced down at her hands, which she hadn’t noticed she’d been wringing nervously. She’d probably made a horrible first impression on the boy, whom she’d have to share classes with for the next seven years and who probably thought she was the biggest weirdo ever—

“I’m Imogen,” she said anyway as Professor McGonagall brought out a four-legged stool and a very old-looking hat. Oh gosh. She was about to get sorted. Please Gryffindor, please Gryffindor…

“I’m kinda scared,” she whispered, mostly to herself, but she mentally scolded herself when she realised the boy probably thought she was still talking to him. Oh well; it was out now, and she couldn’t take it back.

She just hoped the boy didn’t judge her too harshly.

stefan capper

[Stefan Capper]

The train ride had been awful, Stefan thought as he jumped off it and looked around for his suitcase, before an older boy with a shiny badge emblazoned with a ‘P’ on it told him his suitcase would be taken to his room once he was sorted, and he nodded quickly, blushing and turning away from him. He’d sat alone in a compartment with another girl who had been crying the entire time and they hadn’t even shared two words to each other. He didn’t exactly know how to. How could you make friends like his mum had said if they were all strangers to him? He couldn’t just go up and talk to a stranger! They’d think he was weird. Glancing around, Stefan noticed that a—whoa, the man was big—really large man was waving around a lantern and calling the first years over. Suddenly finding himself surrounded by other kids his own age, Stefan squeezed his way over between a red-headed kid and another girl, and felt so small at that moment. The man introduced himself as Hagrid and told them they’d be heading to the school on some boats—and then Stefan saw them; wooden paddle boats, looking like they’d fit five or so of them, at the shore of a huge lake leading up to Hogwarts. It was dark, and the water seemed like it was freezing, and the thought of falling in made him shiver a little and hug his arms tighter over his chest, where he was already dressed in his school robes, like they’d been indicated to do in the train.

Looking up when students started moving, Stefan followed the rest of the crowd, being careful not to step on anybody’s robes because that would be very awkward and very embarrassing, towards the boats, listening to Hagrid saying there were four to a boat, and quickly stepped into the nearest one before he could be the odd one out and they’d tell him he couldn’t fit and he had to go back home or something equally horrifying. He found himself sitting next to another blonde boy that kind of looked like Ethan, and Stefan immediately felt a little more comfortable next to him, and two girls that looked nervous as well. Just as Stefan was beginning to wonder if they were supposed to use their hands to push the boat forward or something, they started moving on their own, and he couldn’t’ help but gasp a little in surprise when Hogwarts finally came into view. And it was gigantic. He knew his mum and dad had said that Hogwarts was enormous, but this was something else! This was—an actual castle. A real life, huge castle that looked like it belonged to a king or queen of sorts. He felt his heart speed up at the thought of spending the next six years of his life here. Living here. It both thrilled and terrified him, if he was being honest.

They finally got to the other side, and Stefan scurried out of the boat, managing not to trip as he walked over, though one of the girls he’d sat with did, and scraped her knee. He paused for a second, wondering if he should go over and help her because she looked nice, but figured that she hadn’t seen him and what if she didn’t want to talk to him? Or didn’t like him? It was better not to take any risks, he decided finally, and hurried over with the rest of the crowd inside the castle. They walked up the stone steps to come before a tall woman with a pointed witch’s hat and glasses on her nose; she looked like someone he wouldn’t want to upset, he thought quickly, and bit his lip nervously. The woman introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, welcomed them into the school, and Stefan wasn’t sure what she was even saying anymore because his heart was beating so fast in his chest with nerves, and they were going to be sorted soon and the sorting was so nerve-wrecking and he felt his hands start to get clammy. So he clenched them at his sides and hoped nobody noticed. The last thing he wanted was for somebody to make fun of him already. He didn’t deal well with things like that.

Houses, houses…Stefan wasn’t sure what to think. What if he got into the wrong house? What if his parents were upset that he didn’t get into one of theirs? He knew his mum had said it didn’t matter where he went and they would love him all the same if he got into any of the four, but still. His dad had gotten into Hufflepuff, like his dad before him, and his mum had been in Ravenclaw, the blue house, which had always been his favorite color, so he’d always wanted to be in Ravenclaw since he was little. But if he was in Ravenclaw, his dad could be disappointed that he wasn’t following in his footsteps, and he could be ruining a family legacy thing or something, and it was too much pressure and this type of thinking really wasn’t doing anything for his nerves and his clammy hands. Stefan took a deep, steadying breath and tried to think of happy things. He looked around and promptly looked back when Professor McGonagall started leading them into the Great Hall for their sorting—what? The doors opened and they started filing in, two by two, and the rest of the students—older, more experienced, already sorted students—waiting for them. Oh, no, he didn’t know it was going to be public! That others were going to see! He swallowed and was going over a scenario in which he fell off the stool when they placed the hat on his head when a soft ‘hi’ made him look over to the girl on his left. The one who’d fallen and scraped her knees. And was now talking to him.

Stefan was too surprised that she was actually talking to him to realize she was saying something about the ceiling, and looked up to the night sky, and smiled a little. That’s what his mum had been talking about, and he bit his lip, wanting to nod his assent, say that yes, he knew, and his parents were wizards, and ask if her brother was a wizard too? And what house he’d been in? What house did she want to be in? But he didn’t want to seem weird, so he only smiled a little and kept quiet, walking forward and feeling his stomach twist nervously at the looks the other students were giving them. Everybody stopped walking and he stood on tip-toes to look above the head of the boy in front of him to see Professor McGonagall pull out the stool with the sorting hat, and…the girl was talking to him again. Stefan swallowed and looked over, smiling a little again. “I’m—I’m Stefan,” he said quietly, nervously, and nodded when she said she was scared. Good. He wasn’t the only one then. “Me too,

[/color]” he said simply, taking a deep breath when the professor said she was going to call on the students’ names in alphabetical order and to step forward. Oh, god. Capper. He’d be one of the first ones, then. He counted in his head, A, B, one girl from C went to Gryffindor, and then—“Capper, Stefan.”

“Oh, no,[/color]” he whispered, paling, and glanced at Imogen next to him before quickly looking back forward and stuttering in his step as he walked up, feeling like every eye in the world was on him, heart racing in his chest and stomach churning as he gingerly walked over to Professor McGonagall, sitting on the stool like the other kids had done and waiting for her to lower the hat onto his head. It was heavier than he’d thought it would be, and Stefan trembled a little in his seat as he looked out at the rest of the first years in front of him, and the other students on the four tables in the Great Hall. Oh, god. He could see the Slytherins on the right, and the Hufflepuffs on the left, and he felt his stomach churning at the thought of his dad, and his eyes met another boy’s at that table, who smiled a little at him, and he quickly looked away, stomach twisting again. And then the hat started speaking to him, saying things like, ‘quick mind’ and ‘brave’ and he was panicking a little because a hat was talking to him, and then whatever this hat decided, he’d be in that house for the rest of his life and what if he did something wrong… the hat kept speaking, and it seemed like he was talking inside his mind, because judging by the look on Professor McGonagall’s face, she couldn’t hear the hat saying ‘loyal, too…you’d make a valiant Gryffindor,’ and he panicked again, gasping a little and not Gryffindor, why Gryffindor? He didn’t know any Gryffindors! ‘Not Gryffindor?’ the hat said ‘Well, then, well, then…there’s only one other house best for you…’ and then, definitely, terrifyingly out-loud—“RAVENCLAW!”

Stefan gasped, a little, and then his shoulder sagged, relaxing back into his seat and a giddy smile spread over his face when the table to his right erupted into cheers, and there were other people smiling at him and clapping for him and he waited for the hat to be removed from his head before running over, taking a seat next to another boy who’d been sorted into Ravenclaw before him, who gave him a high-five, and an older girl across him doing the same and saying “Welcome to Ravenclaw!” and wow. Amazing.[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Imogen Sauveterre]

Wow, the boy actually spoke to her! Stefan, he said his name was. Stefan Capper, Imogen soon learned, since Professor McGonagall called his name rather early on in the Sorting. A boy next to her snickered, supposedly at his surname, and Imogen “accidentally” trod on his foot and shot him a glare. There was really no need for him to be rude already when he didn’t even know the kid. Neither did Imogen, but Stefan was scared too, so Imogen… yeah, she had to stick up for him, even if it meant making an enemy on the first day.

She clapped loudly as Stefan was sorted into Ravenclaw and he went to join the table. “Congrats!” she whispered with a smile as he passed her. He was the second to be sorted into Ravenclaw, which was pretty good for that house considering not a lot of kids had been sorted yet.

As it turned out, there was quite a wait before they would get near the S-names. Imogen couldn’t help but sigh, glaring at the boy who’d laughed at Stefan’s name as he went up to the stool (‘Maier, Chace!’ ‘GRYFFINDOR!’) and groaning in dismay, wishing he’d gone to any other house. She wanted to be in Gryffindor, and the thought of sharing a house with him for the next seven years was unbearable. Anyway, the boy was clearly a bully, and didn’t they go to Slytherin by default or something? … Okay, that was a little unfair. She was certain that there were some decent Slytherins. And Simon’s favourite professor was Professor Slughorn, who was head of Slytherin house and taught Potions, because he and Simon both had a liking for sweets and sometimes Simon would bring him some so that he could get the ‘good’ ingredients and supplies. She glanced up at the staff table and thought she spotted him; he was a rather portly man with a heavy moustache, but he looked jolly enough; he could pass as Father Christmas if he was older and had a beard.

She was started from her thoughts as someone at the tables gave a holler when Prewett, Gideon went up to the stool. Professor McGonagall shot whoever it was a warning look, and Imogen couldn’t help but smile, thoroughly enjoying that she was able to exert such control with no words at all, just one glance from those steely dark eyes. The hat seemed to be taking its time with that boy, who looked more like a second or third year than a first, before finally placing him in Hufflepuff and sending him on his way. Imogen grew more nervous as he passed and she saw the stunned, and almost disappointed, look on his face; obviously, the hat didn’t put you in a certain house just because you wanted to be in it. Imogen swallowed and bit her nail. She needed to be in Gryffindor, like her brother. She had to be. She just… had to show the hat how brave she was. But she was scared, and the hat had said during its song that it could basically read minds, so how could she hide the fact that she was scared? Anyway, it was a little silly, wasn’t it? Sorting people based on their thoughts – shouldn’t the hat try to read what was in their heart or something? It should have tried to see their feelings, not their thoughts, because that was what mattered, wasn’t it?

Well, she’d just have to give it her best shot. Professor McGonagall continued to call names, and then finally—

“Sauveterre, Imogen!”

Oh god, now was not the time for her legs to turn to jelly.

Her body disagreed, however, and decided that of course it was the opportune moment to start shaking like a leaf in wind. Taking a deep breath, Imogen stepped up to the stool and sat down, gripping the edges and hoping she wouldn’t topple over—

“RAVENCLAW!”

Imogen blinked in surprise; the hat had barely touched her head. For a moment, she was rather confused and felt like asking if that was it, if it was over, and then realised what house it had shouted and… oh, no, she was in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, and… and… And her mother and father would be so disappointed, she was in the house with the nerds – these were the people Simon’s friends gave wedgies to—

“Oh,” was all she could say as Professor McGonagall called the next name – oh, and it was Jezebel, of course it would be, even though it was ‘Sauveterre, Perdita’. Imogen sat down numbly at the Ravenclaw table, trying to fight the rising disappointment as the hat deliberated for a bit on Jezebel’s head before shouting “GRYFFINDOR!” Imogen clapped for her cousin along with the rest of them, shaking her head when the bloke next to her asked if they were twins (they did look a lot alike, other than the fact that Jezebel was blonde and Imogen was brunette), but staring down at her plate otherwise. How could she be in Ravenclaw and Jezebel be in Gryffindor? It didn’t make sense! Why couldn’t they both be?

It took a moment for her to realise that she was sitting across from Stefan Capper, the boy from before. Putting aside her disappointment, she smiled at him and glanced back to the front. There were only a few students left, and the sorting ended with Whittle, Milo, who joined Hufflepuff. Imogen clapped with the rest of her house, keeping her eyes trained on Professor Albus Dumbledore as he rose from his seat and came forward to speak. He said a word in a different language (for a moment, Imogen wondered if it was Mermish), but that was all – and then food miraculously started appearing in front of them, so she supposed whatever he said meant bring on the grub. It was only then that Imogen realised how hungry she was, and she blushed as her stomach let out a loud growl.

“Looks good,” she said to Stefan, helping herself to mashed potatoes. “So… Ravenclaw. I guess we better get some reading glasses and learn how to be nerds, huh?”

She was only joking a little bit, but he didn’t have to know that. Besides, it might not be so bad; she didn’t know Stefan Capper at all, really, but at least she knew that someone in her house and year was friendly.

[Stefan Capper]

It was amazing, really, how the simple fact of being sorted into a house—of sitting among other students that were a part of the same group you’re in—Ravenclaws—made all the difference in the world, and Stefan bounced a little in his seat as he watched the rest of the sorting. The girl he’d been talking to, Imogen, was sorted into Ravenclaw just as the hat touched her head, and Stefan’s face lit up a little at the thought of a familiar face joining them, and clapped cheerfully as she came over, though she didn’t look too happy about it. He smiled at her eagerly before turning back to watch the rest of the first years. There weren’t very many left, and he could already spot Emmeline from where he sat. She was chattering non-stop under her breath with the good-looking blonde boy from the boat before, as usual, when her name was called, and Stefan watched his cousin make her way up to the hat, where it sat for a while before calling out “HUFFLEPUFF!” and she squealed and ran over to the table on the other side of the hall. Stefan licked his lips and watched the last boy, Whittle, Milo, go up and get sorted into Hufflepuff as well before everybody quieted down and Professor Dumbledore stood up. Stefan’s eyes widened a little at the sight of him; his mum had told him Professor Dumbledore was the best wizard in the world, and he’d been the only one able to defeat a bad guy Grindylow or something like that some years ago in a great war. He sat up a little straighter at the thought of having to make an impression on him, and listened to him say something—his eyes looked like they twinkled behind his glasses, and his beard was so long! And then food blossomed from the plates in front of them, stretching out across the entire long table, all over the Great Hall, and the talking started up again.

It seemed like everybody was speaking at once, chattering away with their friends; the older students were already turning to speak to each other, while the prefect girl who’d high-fived him earlier was talking to another boy who’d just been sorted with them, Starsomething, who looked a little lost, and Stefan wondered if maybe he should be trying to making friends. In theory, he knew he should, because that’s what everybody said happened at school. You went to study and make friends. But he just didn’t have the ability to do that. It was hard enough as it was talking to someone, but actually making friends with them? How could he even do that, anyway? Did he have to ask someone to be his friend? Or would the other person ask him? It sounded a little silly to him, asking, but what if that was the way it happened…he peered around the table, wondering if the first years talking around them already had asked before doing so, and was about to go ahead and reach for some food when Imogen talked to him again, and his stomach twisted excitedly.

“It does!” he agreed quickly, figuring she might like him better if he thought the same as her. Though he wasn’t exactly pretending, he thought, as he watched her serve some food onto her plate, and reached over to grab a chicken wing onto his plate, so he wasn’t just sitting there doing nothing, before turning to her again, and pausing at her words. “N-nerds?

[/color]” he whispered, a little worriedly, eyes wide as he looked at her. “Why—Ravenclaws are nerds?[/color]” he asked again, looking around and trying to see if anybody was looking, or listening to what they were saying. They hadn’t seemed like nerds when he’d talked to them before, but…Imogen wouldn’t just make that up, right? And she’d mentioned something about an older brother who knew about the enchanted roof…maybe she knew that Ravenclaws were nerds, too. But why hadn’t his mum said anything? She’d told him all about Hogwarts, and she’d said that she loved being in Ravenclaw! He thought she would’ve been happy. But what if it was a house for nerds, and he never made any friends because everybody thought he was a nerd? Swallowing, Stefan looked back to his chicken, which suddenly didn’t seem all that appetizing anymore, and frowned, heart racing a little.

Great, not even an hour into his school life and he’d already started off on the wrong foot by being with the nerds. He looked up at Imogen. At least he was with other nerds, right? Would that make it better? She seemed to know what she was talking about, and the way she’d said that—she was cool. Stefan decided she was cool. But if she was cool, then why would she want to talk to him? He clearly wasn’t cool. Biting his lip, a nervous habit he’d developed since he was eight, he swallowed and figured the best he could do now was just go along with whatever she did. It was his best bet, really. If he looked like he knew what he was doing, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Imogen Sauveterre]

Stefan seemed a little worried about the fact that Imogen had referred to them as nerds; even though it was what Simon had told her, she decided to correct herself anyway. “I’m kidding!” she laughed. “Totally joking.” She glanced down at the older students, and saw that they didn’t look particularly nerdy. In fact, only a few Ravenclaws had specs, and no more students than any other house. An older boy from Gryffindor looked nerdier in his glasses than any of the Ravenclaws, really.

Well, if Simon and his friends decided to give any of the Ravenclaws a hard time this year, they’d just have to answer to Imogen. Not that Simon went around bullying younger kids, but he had some friends who could be mean; Imogen met one during the summer who’d locked her in the closet for twenty minutes before Simon let her out, and threatened to chop all her hair off if she told their parents. It was just a prank, anyway, but Imogen hoped his friends would grow up and decide against pranks this year. For Ravenclaw firsties, at least.

“We are the smart house, though, aren’t we? I mean, you heard the hat’s song, going on about how Ravenclaws are all wise and sharp and witty. That’s not so bad, is it?” She was really trying to talk herself up as much as trying to cheer up Stefan, whom she seemed to have upset with her comment. “I mean, my brother thinks Ravenclaws are nerds, but he’s in Gryffindor and thinks that the world revolves around his house. Maybe he just needs to get his head out of his as—arse. Butt.” She coughed and blushed; swearing wasn’t exactly new to Imogen (which she figured came with the territory, having grown up around sailors in a fishing town), but she wasn’t sure if Stefan was okay with it.

“Anyway, could be worse. Could be in with that lot.” She nodded her head toward the Slytherins, some of whom looked rather gruff and irritable. A small number of students had been sorted into Slytherin this year; not as many as Hufflepuff got, or Ravenclaw. Maybe Imogen was a little biased because of the bad stories she’d heard about Slytherin, from both her father and her brother, but none looked too pleased to join the house. She almost felt bad for them, but didn’t realise she’d been staring until one of new girls glared back at her. Blushing, Imogen returned to her food. “Oh my god, try the roast beef. It’s actually really good.”

She really did hope she hadn’t scared Stefan too badly. He was actually nice, and not at all intimidating, and had been scared for the sorting too, and for some reason Imogen found herself clinging to that fact. Maybe she was jumping the wand a little bit here, but… maybe he could be… a friend. She wouldn’t suggest it, not yet, but maybe… he could be her first friend at Hogwarts. Jezebel didn’t count, she was a cousin, but Stefan was new and… well, Florence would kill her for having a bloke for a friend, but… Stefan was nice. So maybe that was okay, then.

Smiling, she helped herself to more roast beef.

Everything would be okay.

[Stefan Capper]

It was like taking a breath of fresh air, when Imogen said she’d been kidding about Ravenclaws being nerds, and Stefan tried not to blush too hard at the fact that he’d been clearly freaking out a little at her words. He followed her eyes around their table and took in the rest of the faces; to be honest, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure what a nerd was. He just knew it had to do with not being cool and something about school. Maybe they were nerds, and Imogen didn’t realize it either. But she seemed certain she’d been kidding, so he followed suit, and picked up his cutlery, starting to cut into his chicken wing, eager to get to the next piece of food, since everything looked amazing here. His dad had always said Hogwarts food was the best, and he was about to have his first bite. He paused, however, the piece of chicken still on his fork when Imogen began speaking again, and turned to look and listen to her instead. That’s what people did, right? Friends. They talked to each other and listened—that’s what he did with Ethan, anyway, so he figured it was polite, and nodded along. The Hat’s song had said something about them being witty, and as far as he knew witty was good. He bit his lower lip a little—Imogen talked a lot. It was nice, though, hearing her voice; she had a nice voice. “Yeah,” he was quick to agree. “It’s not so bad.

[/color]”

Imogen proceeded to talk about her brother, and Stefan raised his eyebrows, looking around the hall as if he would magically look upon a carbon copy of Imogen in a boy, and stopped when she said he was in Gryffindor. He looked over at the Gryffindor table, where everybody was talking loudly, and seemed probably the loudest table around. They kind of intimidated him, and suddenly he wasn’t so nervous about being in Ravenclaw. The people on his table seemed a little more approachable, at least. His eyes swept back to Imogen when she stumbled over the word ‘arse’ and he giggled quietly. “It’s okay,[/color]” he said, smiling at the fact that she wasn’t perfect. His mother had always taught him not to swear, that it was naughty and nothing good would come out of it, but Ethan swore all the time, and he kind of liked it. There was something kind of thrilling about doing something you’re not supposed to, as long as it wasn’t that bad. Finally getting a chance while Imogen coughed a little at her slip-up, Stefan quickly put the piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed around it, humming appreciatively. It was good. The table Imogen was looking at, Slytherin, was also a house he didn’t particularly want to have been sorted it—they didn’t look very happy and was it him, or was there a smirk-like expression on almost everybody’s face?

“They don’t look very happy,[/color]” he whispered, finishing his chicken wing and helping himself to some roast beef after Imogen’s comment, spotting a tray of mashed potatoes and serving himself some of that, too. Nobody seemed to stop eating around here, and it was very exciting. Stefan glanced between the other new people in Ravenclaw this year, making eye-contact with a very pretty boy across the table who seemed to be in the middle of counting the stars above their heads or something, given the way he looked right back up afterwards, and back to Imogen, watching the way she was smiling. He smiled too. “What do you think about the classes?[/color]” he whispered over to her excitedly, now that he felt a little more comfortable talking to her, and amongst all of these people who were mostly having a good time. “We start tomorrow, right? My dad says Charms is the best. I hope we’re in it together.[/color]” Pressing his lips together, Stefan blushed and hoped Imogen didn’t think it was too weird that he was excited about knowing someone in his first class—he wasn’t sure how everything worked, but it would suck if he was stuck amongst Gryffindors and Slytherins with no-one to talk to.

[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Imogen Sauveterre]

Imogen had never been one to make a lot of friends. She was too much of an introvert, too shy, too much of an annoying know-it-all to ever have anyone actually like her. But being friends with Stefan, so far, was easy. Maybe it was the idea that they had things in common, being sorted into Ravenclaw and all. Of course, she knew not to count her chickens before they hatched. She could say something wrong or offensive tonight and Stefan could hate her guts for the next seven years. Maybe he’d go and find new friends once he got back to his dorm; better friends, and completely forget about Imogen. It was entirely possible. But for tonight, he was Imogen’s friend. She was going to treat him as such, and think of him that way too.

“Well, I can’t wait until third year – you know, when we can pick electives?” Simon had tried for all twelve subjects in third year, but ended up dropping Divination, Muggle Studies, and Ancient Runes about halfway through; the course load had been too much for him. Imogen, however, was determined to be better, and she desperately wanted to prove it by taking twelve OWLs – and, if her mentality could handle it, twelve NEWTs. She didn’t know what she wanted to be when she graduated, so the safest thing, she figured, was to take everything because that left all doors open. The trick would be to keep all of her grades as high as she could possibly manage. According to Simon, if you got one ‘T’ grade in a class, you failed immediately and could never take it again. If you got two, he said, you were expelled from Hogwarts. Imogen didn’t think there was any truth to what he said, but she was certain she’d never get a ‘T’ grade anyway. Besides, professors didn’t start marking like that until OWL year.

“Charms sounds like fun, though! I read about the professor for Charms – I think he’s the really short one up at the table. Professor Filius… Flit…something. Flitwick, I think? Simon said he’s the Head of Ravenclaw. So maybe he’ll like us best, since we’re in his house and all. I’m not really sure how Hogwarts does classes though… Maybe they split it alphabetically.” Her stomach was full to bursting, and she still had a bunch of food on her plate. Imogen hated to waste, but her eyes had been bigger than her stomach tonight. She hoped the food that wasn’t eaten wasn’t just thrown out in the garbage; maybe it could be used for compost or something, since Hogwarts had gardens (didn’t it?). Now, though, Imogen was uncomfortably full, and hadn’t even had dessert – and lo and behold, there was chocolate. Making a face at herself for being so foolish, she set her cutlery down and settled for just staring at the piece of chocolate cake, as though looking at it was enough to be fulfilling (it wasn’t).

As supper drew to a close, older students began to get up and head out of the Great Hall – probably to the dorms, Imogen figured. She saw Simon leaving with a group of his friends, laughing at a joke one of them had told. He seemed to look over her way and she raised her hand to wave, but then he was looking away and ignoring her completely. Huffing slightly, Imogen adjusted her tie around her neck so that it was looser and looked up and down the Ravenclaw table. A tall, skinny boy with wire-rimmed glasses stood up a few seats away from her and began to beckon the first years; Imogen’s stomach gave an excited twist and she stood eagerly, smiling at Stefan as she realised what was next. They were finally going up to the Ravenclaw common room – wherever it was – and a hot bed and blankets and sleep—

“I can’t wait to get to bed,” she said to Stefan, falling into step beside him as they followed the Ravenclaw prefect. Now that she thought about it, she was utterly exhausted. The train ride had been ridiculously long, and having your surname be near the bottom of the alphabet wasn’t much fun either. Now that she was full from a hearty dinner, she was definitely ready for some shut-eye. “I hope they’re cozy.”

The prefect led them through the castle and up a staircase in a tower. Every now and then, Imogen glanced out a window at the dark world outside; their surroundings really were lovely, especially with the sky reflected in the lake. Once they reached the entrance to the common room, the prefect explained that to gain entry, one must answer a riddle. Imogen frowned nervously; riddles could be quite difficult, especially to a first-year. Not only that, but anyone could answer a riddle; who was to say a clever Slytherin couldn’t figure it out and get inside?

But when the riddle itself arose, Imogen found that the answer came to her within a few moments, and others around her seemed to grasp it too. It had been easier than she thought, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. They entered the dorm, and the prefect showed them around a little before directing them to their respective dorm rooms. She looked over at Stefan and gave him a smile. “Well… it was nice meeting you, Stefan,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

All in all, she figured, it wasn’t a bad start to the next seven years.

[Stefan Capper]

The rest of dinner wasn’t particularly eventful, by any normal terms, as Stefan listened to Imogen talk and talk about what her brother had told her—she seemed to know so much more than him even though his dad had also gone to Hogwarts and told him about it, maybe he hadn’t been paying much attention to what he’d said, or maybe he hadn’t specified so many things because Imogen was speaking like she knew the place up and down, and he was enraptured by her words. But by his terms, it was fantastic. At least, in comparison to how much he’d been dreading tonight all morning and throughout the entire train ride; he’d found someone he could talk to, whom he felt comfortable with, and who seemed to at least like him enough to keep up a conversation with him. And if things went well… maybe this was how he was supposed to make friends? The thought made something excited flip in his stomach as he finished dessert—they had strawberry parfaits—and they talked more about the classes; he completely agreed with her that Charms sounded very fun, and he couldn’t wait to start. He’d always been fascinated with spells, and it was a definite bonus that the course was taught by the Ravenclaw Head of House, although Stefan figured, logically, that he wouldn’t be able to show any preference. It still had to help in some way. At least the Professor, when he glanced up at where Imogen was pointing to Flitwick at the teachers’ table, seemed nice enough; very small, too. He didn’t think he’d be intimidated by him, which was also good.

Imogen didn’t have any dessert, which Stefan thought was a little strange—maybe she wasn’t a sweets person, but he didn’t ask because as much as he hoped they became friends, they’d only just met and he was still cautious about saying the wrong thing that would make her finally realize he was too weird to hang out with, and make her find other friends, like that other boy who’d been staring up at the stars. Supper finished with everybody still talking, and people getting up from the tables and Stefan had looked around anxiously, wondering where to go or what to do, but had settled for following Imogen’s lead since, again, she looked like she knew what she was doing and what was going on. They were called up, finally, by an older boy with the P badge he now realized were Prefects, and he caught Imogen’s smile as she stood up, quickly doing the same and following the boy in specs. The boy introduced himself and welcomed them to Hogwarts again, talking about how they were going to go to the Ravenclaw Common Room, and how nobody else was supposed to know where the entrance was so they had to keep it to themselves. Stefan didn’t think he’d be talking to anybody in other houses, anyway, so he didn’t think this was a problem.

“I know, me too,” he agreed with Imogen in a whisper, climbing up the stairs to a long tower as they followed the Prefect, trying to see where they were going to be headed amongst the couple other first years that had been sorted into Ravenclaw. “The common room must be at the top of this tower,

[/color]” he mused, more to himself than anything, and sure enough, the Prefect stopped them at a door without a visible doorknob, but had an eagle-shaped knocker. The Ravenclaw mascot, he thought, and stared at it while the Prefect explained that they had to answer a riddle to get in. Oh, Merlin, how was he supposed to figure that out? What if he couldn’t? Would he be stuck here outside until he could figure out the answer, or would somebody let him in? Stefan glanced at Imogen to see her looking at least a little nervous as well, which was reassuring, in a way, but then the riddle was spoken and… it was logical. He thought about it for a while and he understood it.

Huh. Maybe it was a Ravenclaw thing. Smiling a little, feeling a sense of pride in belonging to something—at having one thing that joined him with the rest of the boys and girls standing around the door as it opened and revealed the common room. It was elegant and airy and he could see the night sky from tall windows all around; blue and gold drapes and freshly decorated; he took in a deep breath and kept smiling as he looked around, half-listening as the Prefect explained where the boys and girls’ dormitories were at. “It’s so nice,[/color]” he whispered to Imogen, grinning excitedly until the first years started moving towards their respective staircases, and he realized Imogen was a girl, and therefore would not be going the same way as him. He returned her smile immediately. “See ya,[/color]” he said, lifting his hand in a small wave and started to climb the stairs behind the boy who’d looked at the stars, finally realizing how exhausted he was.

But there was a bed with his name on it at the top of these stairs; and a school he belonged at for the next couple of years. Everything was going to be fine.

[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]