It was officially your first year at Hogwarts, but you were classified as a third year since you transferred from a different wizardry school. It was a complicated move, you argued, cried, and fought to not go, but your parents thought this one would be better for your education, but you hated the switch. Now you had to start over with new friends, new teachers, and a completely new life.

As you walked through the train with multiple bags in hand, one filled with your new cloaks, since you had been sorted over the break to minimize confusion, it started to leave, jolting you forward.

You practically tripped over yourself, your luggage falling on the floor with a loud slam, almost followed by your own body, causing too many heads to turn out of their carts and stare down the isle at you while you tried to collect your belongings.

With a loud cry you grabbed onto a random cart to stabilize yourself and threw yourself in to keep from falling as the train jolted forwards again. As you regained your balance and sense of direction, there were two pairs of shoes sitting across from each other, the awkward silence biting at you. Looking up slowly, you saw two boys staring back at you. Your cheeks turned pink as you soaked in the moment, biting back a frown as you examined their faces.

If to make the situation worse, you locked eyes with both of their judgmental gazes. One whom you recognized: The same messy red-haired boy who had rushed you onto the train, nudging your legs with his luggage as he murmured curses under his breath that only you could hear, now giving you a confused but irritated look. The other boy, a scrawny one with shaggy brown hair, crooked glasses and a scar running down his forehead. You've seen him in the papers, but couldn't recall his name for the life of you.

The brown haired one stared at you with bewilderment. The red-head one spoke up, breaking the silence that was building oh so awkwardly. He spoke with a monotone and unamused voice, laced with the British accent everyone had. "Yes?"