SOLSTICE

015

[A young evil-looking boy, with short blonde hair, called Draco Malfoy, speaks up.]

"Look who's here, our own pompous peacock," Blaise sing-songed as Draco shot him a glare.

Draco: It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. [some of the students are heard whispering, "Harry Potter?" Draco introduces his two friends.] This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Draco just wanted to disappear into the thin air. He wasn't proud of that version of himself.

[Ron snickers at his name] Think my name's funny, do you? I've no need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley. You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there. [extends his hand to Harry.]

"Draco!" Narcissa hissed while Draco avoided her stare.

"Well, the Malfoys do seem to consistently hatch spoiled rotten eggs," Sirius quipped with a smirk, "No surprises there." James snorted while Lucius glared.

Lucien deducted that Malfoy is a Spoiled child who can't even fathom how to navigate in a world beyond privilege.

Lucien's thoughts turned towards Ron, as he assessed him he came to the conclusion that the child lacked manners and a basic sense of decorum.

He pondered whether this was typical behavior for children or if he had matured before his age.
Harry: [not going to take Draco's arrogance] I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.

"You tell him, Harry." Many cheered along with Siruis and James while Lucius glared at them.

Draco glares at him but-

"What the --?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years.

"I'll never forget how I shrieked like a banshee the first time I laid eyes on the ghosts," a muggle-born chuckled.

"Lucky you," another wizard chimed in with a grin, "I managed to execute a perfect, impromptu somersault down the stairs."

They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

Peeves decided to make his presence known.

"Well, look who's being a bit naughty! It's me, future Peeves!" he crowed, his voice a mischievous blend of ethereal laughter and gleeful pride.

"Good to know I am as cheerful as ever."

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

It wasn't long before Professor McGonagall came back.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."