𝕿𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗 - ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵘˢ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ

Chapter 1: The Marauders

[ September 1st, 1977 ]

THEONA BELL had never been more nervous. She was almost sure that if, right then, her naturally shaking hands were magically cured, she wouldn't even notice, as they would still be shaking in a cruel fusion of nerves and anticipation. She cracked her neck, tilting her head side to side; a nervous tick she had developed at an early age.

She hated crowded spaces, and Platform 9 3/4 was a prime example of this. People scuffling about with little care for those around them, parents shouting to their children, children shouting back. Only minutes earlier a pair of boys had raced passed her, almost knocking her on her ass. Now, they'd returned with two others hot on their tail and actually did knock her on her ass. She wasn't surprised when none of them stopped to apologize, but chose to see the best in them and assume they just didn't notice.

Her older brother, Sebastian, was walking beside her, and did nothing but laugh when she fell over.

"You'll be fine, Theo, just keep it nifty," he comforted, offering her his free hand-the other one was busy with her trunk-and hauling her by her wrist back to her feet.

"You're really getting into this whole no-maj slang deal, huh?" Theona chuckled, brushing herself off.

"Yeah, well if I'm going to fit in with all the dudes and foxy mamas of London, then I have to," he grinned, raising his eyebrows at the look of disgust on Theona's face.

"I'm so ready to get away from you." She sighed, speeding up so she was walking a few feet in front of him.

It was amazing to Theona just how different Hogwarts's system was compared to Ilvermorny's. Travelling by train instead of by portkey, being sorted by a hat instead of being chosen by statues. At Ilvermorny, Theona had been in Thunderbird house-though she had the choice between that and Pukwudgie-but at Hogwarts she had learned she was a Ravenclaw, with no choice in the matter. After being accepted into the school months earlier, she'd opted for a private sorting, where she'd met the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and the Ravenclaw head of house, Professor Flitwick.

She was just glad she didn't have to do another public sorting-one had been more than enough.

Sebastian jogged back up to her side, a cautious look twisted on his face, "are you going to be able to carry your trunk?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked sharply.

The topic of her injury was a sore spot for her, literally, as the nerve damage in her hands made it painful to do most things; she had to give up playing quidditch and piano, could only write for short periods of time, and had dropped more cups and plates than she could count. In truth, she probably couldn't carry her trunk, but as always she'd go down trying and never tell Sebastian when she failed.

"Are you gonna make me spell it out for you?" He questioned, a softness to his voice despite the bluntness of his words.

"Seb, I'm fine, you worry to much," she brushed him off, stopping to look at him.

"I worry the perfect amount, actually," he drawled, placing her trunk down. The whistle of the train blew, informing the siblings that it was time to say goodbye. "Well, you should probably get going."

"Yeah," she breathed, the airiness of their conversation retreating and leaving only suffocating tension. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he in turn wrapped his around her shoulders. "I'll write."

"You better," he laughed, before dipping his head down to her ear, "promise me you'll lay low, we can't afford to get caught."

"I promise," she whispered, before pulling back from the hug and flashing him one last smile, "bye."