Opening Feast: Gryffindor Table

Gryffindor Table

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The Gryffindor table is on the far right of the room when walking in, and is next to the Hufflepuff table.

Everything looked different walking into the castle. Her final year as a student of Hogwarts felt heavy, unlike any year before.

Matilda was walking in alone. Every step echoed in her chest, the feeling of emptiness making it hard to breathe. Her friends all looked happy, smiles and laughter all around her. All she wanted to do was go to bed.

The entire night felt like a charade. No Alice. No Drago. No Everleigh.

Over the summer, she had learned that after Hogwarts there would be no education. No career. She was expected to run the home, throw parties, host luncheons, make connections.

Which made this last year even harder.

Everything felt fake. There was no reason to attend. No reason to try, except that her grandparents and Oleg Zdravkova would have A LOT to say about her failing. It wouldn’t be allowed. It would look bad on the families.

So off to Hogwarts she went. Alone.

Exactly one year ago, Matilda lost her mind when she saw Drago at the feast. Her life as she knew it was ending. Very dramatic. Now, a year later, his absence felt like a lead weight in her stomach.

Even after the events of the summer had unfolded. Oleg showed her exactly how the family handled insolence, and in no certain terms explained what the expectations were. Even after her month in Paris and her three weeks of intensive etiquette training. Even after learning she would be living with Drago in Harwood House, the Zdravkova home.

She still loved him with everything she had and missed him terribly.

Blowing out a breath, Matilda tried to stifle down the growing emotion. Taking a seat at the Gryffindor table, she wiped away a run away tear and put on a fake smile for the younger years around her.

One year. Less than in fact. Ten months. She could do that. Random weekend visits. Christmas and Easter break. Time would fly by.

Or at least, that's what she kept telling herself.

So this was it, this was the last time she would be walking in to the great hall for the start of term feast. She honestly didn',t think she would be this emotional about it. For six years this had always been a depressing end to a carefree summer. This year, well the summer had been less carefree than she would have liked and entering now felt very much an end to childhood and the opressive expectation of adulthood. She had been involved in the usual loud behaviour on the train, trading snacks, catching up, teasing the first years. But the walk into the hall was slightly more subdued. She had a mere matter of months to decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life, not to mention NEWTS, whilst her classwork was always spotty and homework was really not something she was a fan of, she tested really well. There might be hope. She saw two of her three sisters, Briar with her weird 4th year friends, it was hard to miss Poppy who was charging around with her 3rd year friends, she was angrily putting her tie on, last time Tulip had sen her sister the tie was around her head, clearly she'd been caught. Blossom was missing always a worrying time.

She moved to the Gryffindor table, and sat at her favourite place on the long benches. It was weird to think, next year this would be someone elses seat, she made a mental note to hex the seat in her last week, give someone a surprise next term. She saw Matilda had beaten her to the table. "Feels odd doesn't it?" she said looking towards the hat, "Remember when we both stood there fresh off the train, now look at us, on the verge of stepping into the big wild world." it was weird and definitly scary.

"How was your summer?" she asked, "I got set out on an internship at the ministry. I met your grandfather over the summer, thank you for telling him nice things about me, he didn't instantly assume I was a fellon." it had been strange walking into a place with someone not muttering Not another bloody Aquith. She wondered if thats what being an adult felt like.

She looked at her fellow Gryffindor and took out her little black book, the book she usually resevered for her various illegal bets "So currently I have you as 2:1 favourite for Head girl, Ruth at 3:1, I'm at 150:1. Benji is odds on favourite, lord knows why, next boy is Barnabus at 25:1" she said reading the odds she had calcuated during the train journey. "fancy putting some galleons of Sickles on yourself?" she asked Tilly, she looked over at the rest of the Gryffindor table "book is still open until the headmaster's speech."

Year six was starting out great.

Eight hours on the train with Mysty was better than expected.

• Found each other on the train
  
• Took over a small compartment, all to themselves
  
• Talked about their summers, the good, the bad, the annoying
  
• Had snacks
  
• Read a little
  
• Played Wizard Chess
  
• More snacks
  
• Brooks read, Mysty fell asleep
  
• Brooks did not stare at her while she slept…. That would be creepy
  
• More snacks
  
• Hung out with friends
  
• Arrived at the castle
  

Being away from her for the summer was harder than Brooks realized it would be. Sure, there were letters. They saw each other in Diagon Alley for supplies shopping. Through some careful planning, they had managed a meet up at the end of July, but it wasn’t enough.

The minute he saw her walk into the compartment, everything was better. Lighter. Warmer.

Yeah…He was screwed.

Brooks was head over heels for Morgan Barlowe. It was official. And he had no idea what to do about it. Somewhere between turning a page and listening to the wheels on the track, his hand had wandered into her hair. He didn't notice until he was already doing it.

And then she sighed in her sleep and he froze. Afraid that she would wake up and yell at him, he took his hand back. It was far more difficult than he would have thought.

Somewhere after she woke up, their hands found each other like they often did. They stayed that way for the rest of the trip, when they got to Hogwarts, in the carriages riding up to the castle and up the stairs to the opening feast.

Without thinking, upon entering the great hall, Brooks walked towards the Ravenclaw table, while Morgan went to her house, the much louder Gryffindors. Their hands almost broke apart, but without needing to think about it, he followed her to the table draped in red. ”Matilda, Tulip. Hope you don’t mind a stoweaway.”

As they took their seats, Brooks looked down. Their hands were still linked. He blinked, looked over at the other Gryffindor’s at the table who undoubtedly saw when they sat down. Then back at Morgan.

"...... Think people are going to talk?"

He considered it for about half a second, then gave her his signature smirk. "Eh... let 'em." He said, pulling her in close, to his side.

"Now…” he said to the others at the table. ”Which idiot do you reckon thought making us Prefects was a good idea?"

This term felt different from the last, and not in a way Galen could easily explain. He knew the reasons; while the staff table was the same, and the Great Hall was the same, and the students were the same. The difference was something he didn’t agree with, and he’d said as much, but his opinions fell on deaf ears. Or ears of the man who decided this was what the students needed.

Galen had voted against the man.

But here he was.

MacLean looked at the final student as they were sorted into their house, not really paying enough attention to know if they were happy to be sorted into Gryffindor or not. Blackwood took his seat, Galen took a sip of his water, then stood to his feet.

He looked out at the newly sorted first years, almost laughing at the way little Fiona Blackwood was scowling at the Hufflepuff table when he saw her.

“Good evening,” he said and the hall quieted immediately. “For those of you who are new, welcome to Hogwarts. For those of you who are returning, welcome back.”

His blue eyes skimmed the room momentarily.

“Several updates for those who are returning. Many of you have been asking incessantly when Quidditch will be making its return, and I am pleased to announce that this term it is back. Professor Roisin Blackwood will be the coordinator for that, so please see her to sign-up.”

He paused, letting students get their excitement out.

“Additionally, a new course has been added to the curriculum this term. Wizarding Civics, taught by Professor Julia Barlowe, is mandatory for all Muggleborn students. It will be held on Wednesdays following your regular classes,” he said matter-of-factly. James Laurence had called it support. Galen called it something else.

Despite how he felt, nothing in his face moved and his voice gave nothing away.

“Every term, we select the students that you will look to for guidance. These students are as follows for this term: For Gryffindor, your Prefects are Eugene Miller* and Matilda Nordstrom. For Hufflepuff, your Prefects are Rodger Wilco* and Maevie Golding. In Ravenclaw, your Prefects are Brooks Garren and Kaitlyn Dwyer*. And in Slytherin, your Prefects are Robert Goldburg* and Elowen Blackwood*.” Galen waited for applause to die down. “Your Head Boy this term is Benji Laurence, and your Head Girl is Ruth Elliot.”

More applause. He waited.

“Now that is out of the way, enjoy your feast.”

As he sat, the tables filled with food.

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* indicates NPC

The train ride had been everything. Morgan had written with Brooks over the summer, a lot actually, but there was something much better about seeing his face. She felt the familiar stirring in her stomach when she first saw him, had to try really hard not to full on launch herself at him when she first saw him. Instead, she managed to make her way into the cabin, David in hand, and calmly sit.

And then immediately grabbed his hand, and began talking up a storm. She’d missed the way he always smelt of peppermint and apples, and how his hand fit in hers just so perfectly. They talked, they snacked, they read, they played a game of Wizard Chess.

Then Morgan fell asleep. So, she’d used his lap as a pillow – there wasn’t enough room for her to truly spread out. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed his hand in her hair. That was probably what helped her nap so well, too. The silence between them is what told her things that she didn’t understand yet, and was only beginning to recognize.

They reached the Great Hall, hand-in-hand as was the norm now, and instantly began walking towards their own tables. When Morgan felt the change in the hand-holding, she stopped, looked at him with a look that said ‘don’t you dare’, and then continued on her way to the Gryffindor table.

”Matilda, Tulip. Hope you don’t mind a stoweaway.”

Morgan grinned as she sat down across from Tilly, her hand still tightly holding onto Brooks’. She felt his eyes on her and when she looked back at him, he glanced down at their hands.

"...... Think people are going to talk?"

She smirked and shrugged. Really, it didn’t matter to her. They were best friends and his hand belonged firmly in hers no matter what. He pulled her closer and then turned back to let her eyes peer over Tilly, her friend she’d known for years at this point.

Her eyes weren’t shining in the right way.

"Now… Which idiot do you reckon thought making us Prefects was a good idea?"

It was the us that did it for her. Morgan looked at him. “Us? I am not a prefect. You’re a prefect?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back a little.

Then she laughed. “They made you a prefect,” she said, laughing as if it was the funniest thing on earth. The boy had been in countless detentions the previous term, his first at Hogwarts, might she add.

“They made him a prefect,” she said, looking at Tulip and Tilly, still laughing.

Despite feeling she was going a bit mad, she still held his hand tightly in hers.

Then the familiar voice of the Headmaster emerged and Morgan looked towards the man, waiting for the goods.

Which there was one good thing she heard: Quidditch was returning.

“Quid is back!” she exclaimed, not even hearing the bit about muggleborn students being forced into some sort of Civics class.

"Feels odd doesn't it?"

"It does," Tilly admitted quietly, following Tulip's gaze toward the Sorting Hat. "I still remember being terrified of being sorted into Slytherin. Seems silly now." A faint smile tugged at her lips.

The question about summer earned a slightly more genuine smile.

"It was... busy." That was certainly one word for it. "Paris was beautiful, although I don't think I appreciated enough of it." Between etiquette lessons, fittings, dinners, and constant supervision, there had been very little time to actually enjoy the city. "I'm glad your internship went well. Grandfather spoke very highly of you."

When Tulip produced the little black betting book, Tilly couldn't help but laugh.

"You have odds on Head Girl?"

Looking down at the page, she shook her head.

"I'm not betting on myself. That feels like asking to lose." She nudged Tulip lightly with her shoulder. ”But if I were a betting woman..." She tapped the page near Tulip's own name. "...I'd say you're undervaluing yourself."

Before Tulip could protest, Brooks' voice cut through the conversation.

"Matilda, Tulip. Hope you don't mind a stowaway."

Looking up, Tilly's eyes immediately dropped to the joined hands. Then back up. Then back to the hands. A grin spread across her face for the first time that evening.

"I was wondering how long you two were going to pretend that was just friendship."

When Brooks asked if people would talk, she simply shrugged.

"They'll talk if you hold hands. They'll talk if you don't. So you might as well do whatever makes you happy. Although, if your parents aren't aware, they will be soon." The red head said, taking a peak at the staff table.

It was then that the Headmaster announced the prefects and head boy and girl. No surprises there. Except maybe Brooks.

Watching Morgan laugh at Brooks becoming a prefect made Tilly giggle. All previous sadness disappeared.

"Nothing says responsibility quite like multiple detentions." Her expression turned thoughtful. Looking over at the table draped in blue, she turned back and smiled. ”Lets be honest, the eagles are leaving a lot to be desired. Maybe they didn’t want to give the badge to bullies and brats. And I’ll take a patrol with you over Robert from Slytherin anyday.”

The other major piece of news for those in the great hall. Quidditch was back. The announcement earned cheers throughout the hall, tilly was not one of them. Morgan seemed very happy about the news. ”Have fun with that. I will keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, ready to patch up the injured.”

At least Hogwarts still knew how to surprise her.

The smile faded slightly as the announcement about Wizarding Civics. Around her, the excitement over Quidditch drowned out much of the explanation, but Tilly heard every word. She didn't react outwardly, but her eyes drifted briefly toward the staff table before returning to her friends.

Thankfully, the feast arrived before her thoughts could wander too far. Looking between Tulip, Brooks and Morgan, she reached for a dinner roll. "So..." she said, tearing it in half.

"Who's taking bets on Brooks getting his first Prefect detention before Halloween?"