Abigail's Riddle (HP fanfic)

2: A First Glimpse

     Tom and I manage to talk the entire ride to Hogwarts.  The more he tells me about himself, the more I yearn to learn more.  I want to know everything about the pale, quiet boy.

     I'm already in my cloak, pulled on over my plaid skirt and white button down shirt; muggle clothes, when I see the school appear.  I've seen photos of it in multiple books, but it barely compares to the actual view.  The brick is old, faded in some places, but perfect none the less.  There are so many towers, I wonder how I'll possibly find my way to my classes without getting lost.  What with the changing staircases, polterguists and trick doors, I don't doubt that some fourth years will be getting lost.

     I see the gigantic quiditch stadium and smile idly to myself.  Already I can see the stands full, all of them cheering me on as I manage to score so many goals that not even the Golden Snitch could change the results. 

     One of the many books I bought from Diagon Alley has everything to do with quidditch.  I know all the teams, all the stats, and every technique.  Never have I actually picked up an enchanted broom, but I still plan on trying out.  After all, what's the worst that could happen?

     The train slows to a stop, and there's suddenly a mad rush to get out.  I feel as if I should join in the rush, but one look at Tom and I know that I'm wrong.  He's still sitting, staring out the window..

     "Where do we go?" I ask Tom, wondering if perhaps he's in another world.

     "I suppose we board the Thresals now," Tom says casually, still not bothering to tear his gaze from the window.

     "I thought we arrived in carriages," I say curiously.

     "Pulled by Threshals, though I doubt you can see them."

     "Of course not.  When have I seen death?"

     "Well, I have.  My mother died giving birth to me.  I suppose I saw it, because I've always been able to see them."

     "Oh," I say, turning to look out into the train's corridor.  It's nearly empty by now.  I can only see one student, a pimply fourth year, yanking a stubborn trunk from the overhead compartment.

     Finally, it hits.  I'm actually at Hogwarts.  The only thing that's stopping me from starting my year is a stubborn new friend.  Impatiently, I say, "Hurry up, Tom!"

     I burst into the corridor, Tessa dangling from one hand, and I pull my trunk down.  Now that we're here, the excitement has reached an all tme high.  I'm really here at Hogwarts.

     Tom trails after me, but I hardly care.  All I care about is that there are other witches and wizards, each wearing silky black cloaks, branded with their house symbol, and brandishing wands.  Not one single Muggle.  Everybody's special; everybody's like me.

     "Abigail!" Tom calls after me.  I like the way his voice pronounces my name.  It lingers on the "ah", yet does not rush through the rest.

     I smile.  "Yes?"

     "I just thought that maybe you should go with the First Years.  They take boats across the lake, and will enter the Great Hall to be sorted.  If you go with us, I'm not sure where you'll sit."

     "With you, of course," I say with a smile.  After eight hours of talking with the boy, I can safely assume that we're at least good aquaintances.

     "I'm not quite sure you'll be put into Slytherin," he says cautiously, looking down.

     "Why not?" I say, furious.  The way he describes it, it's the only house I would want to be in.  Gryffindors sound like a bunch of prats.  He doesn't say he minds the other two, but he was put into Slytherin the moment the hat touched his head.  I know that Slytherin isn't always perceived to be the best, but the books I have read were not written by a current student.  After all, things could have changed.  Even in the books, Salazar Slytherin seemed to be the most successful.