Gerald followed his father, Leander, through the narrow, cobblestone street and into the store. Visits to Diagon Alley were quite rare for the boy, and so he was always taken aback by the funny looking wizards and wondrous shops that packed the place. The moment they stepped inside Flourish and Blotts, Leander took Gerald’s required textbooks’ list from his cloak’s pocket and wordlessly began searching the shelves, leaving his son to roam around.

The not-so spacious room smelled of old paper, which Gerald though was quite fitting and oddly charming, too. Books were absolutely everywhere. On the ground, on the counter; even on the staircase that led to the second floor. Minding one’s step was mandatory in order not to trip over some thick tome.

Gadding with Ghouls. Quidditch Through the Ages. Gerald traced his index over the titles on the shelf closest to him, brushing away the thinnest layer of dust as he did. Encyclopedia of Toadstools. ‘How utterly boring,’ the kid thought to himself, and wandered over to a different section.

A collection of black volumes neatly stacked at the bottom of the bookshelf caught his eye, and he crouched down to take a better look. A Short History of Necromancy, Deathly Beasts and How to Avoid Them or Advanced Curses and Other Dark Charms were some of the names printed on the spines. Now, these sounded far more interesting. Should his father find him reading something that inappropriate, he would most definitely have a heart attack, and so Gerald had to settle with simply imagining the many horrifying, gruesome things hidden in their pages.

To prevent further temptations, he got on his feet and walked over to the opposite side of the store. A pale, brunette girl, seemingly of his same age, was stood by one of the shelves, nose buried in a book. Gerald thought the cover looked familiar; he was pretty sure he had read it earlier in the summer.

“That’s a good book,” he sort of mumbled as he went past her, gesturing towards the tome she was holding.

Interacting with @Ersa Murtaugh

‘You look the part’. Gerald restrained himself from blurting out an ‘excuse you’, and instead attempted to decipher what the she had actually meant by that. Before he could reach any substantial conclusions, she spoke again.

Gerald, who had not stopped walking and was already a few steps ahead of her, turned his head so that he could take a better glance. He thought she was dressed in a rather muggle way, with shorts and sandals, and, if it weren’t for the green-ish tones that tainted her skin, she would have reminded him of some of the girls at his old primary school. Him on the other hand, determined not to stand out in a wizarding street, had refused to take off his dark cloak despite the fierce summer heat.

‘What are you here for, then, a good read or school books?’

He whirled around completely, now, and leaned against one of the shelves, so that they were facing each other properly.

“School,” he responded. Given her apparent age and the fact that September was just around the corner, he supposed she was there for that reason, as well. Although Similarities in the Hunting Habits of the Jabberwock and the Hippogriff was most definitely not on the supply list.

“Gerald Fawkes,” the boy said, sticking his hand out. “I’m starting Hogwarts in a few weeks,” he continued, a faint grin appearing on his face. “And I assume you are, too, because, well, you look the part.”

The way the r’s rolled off her tongue as she introduced herself reminded him of how his grandfather Tom, Dublin native, used to pronounce them. As someone who hardly ever left Coventry (London being the furthest he’d traveled), Gerald’s expertise with accent recognition was rather poor, but he would have bet a sickle she was Irish.

‘Yeah, I am actually,’

So, he’d not been wrong when guessing that she ‘looked the part’ about being a first year; not that he cared about the truth in his retort as much as the fact that he had managed to simply squeeze it in. Nevertheless, he supposed a familiar face on the Hogwarts’ Express would do no harm.

‘What have you got?’

Gerald instinctively looked down at his hands, even though he knew he wasn’t holding anything.

“Ah, actually, my father is taking care of that,” he commented, glancing over to where Leander stood, twenty feet away, going through a bookcase. “But, presumably, I’ve the same as you.”

Then, Ersa’s head turned towards her book. Gerald let his own eyes fall back on the tome’s cover, along with hers’.

‘I’m actually thinking of studying animals when I’m older, particularly dangerous beasts. That’s why I was looking at this.’

Gerald held back a grimace. Dangerous beasts. He couldn’t think of anything less appealing than the prospect of dealing with animals on a daily basis. Reading about them was alright, but actually getting near them sounded horrible. He could barely handle his grandparents’ old, fat cat; let alone the monstrous creature that was a hippogriff.

‘What about you?’

He interpreted her words as a question about his future career choice, and, not knowing what to respond right off the bat, tilted his head slightly to the side and thought for a second.

“Well, I won’t be doing anything that has to do with animals of any kind, that is for sure,” he proclaimed, after a while of fruitless rumination. “I might do something related to Potions. Or the Dark Arts, perhaps,” he said, for the sake of saying something that resembled a proper answer to her inquiry.

Gerald heard his father speaking with the store’s clerk. Leander was placing a considerable pile of books on top of the counter and reaching inside his pocket for coins.

“Anyway,” the boy turned back towards Ersa, “I’ll let you know when I have decided; guess we’ll be seeing each other around the castle.”

‘Which house do you think you’d fit in? I hear it’s all the hype on the train for first years, to bet on which house they’ll get into.’

Of course, Gerald had done long hours of thinking about the sorting. He’d read about the Houses, the founders, their history and respective ‘celebrities’. Didn’t really picture himself in Hufflepuff and believed he lacked a great deal of foolishness in order to be considered for Gryffindor.

“Ravenclaw, maybe,” Gerald said. Ravenclaw would certainly be a good fit for him; the House of the clever. Academics were definitely a priority of his and, for the most part, he found them fairly enjoyable.

“Or Slytherin.”

Truth be told, part of him felt much more attracted; much more intrigued by Slytherin than Ravenclaw. He suspected his father, first Fawkes to be a Gryffindor, wouldn’t especially appreciate his son being sorted into the House of the snakes. Leander’s dislike towards Slytherin was most certainly linked to the fact that his own siblings and parents, people whom he hated with a passion and refused to speak about more than what was strictly necessary, had all been snakes. Despite the high regard in which he held his father, Gerald believed that his conviction about an evil stirring inside Hogwarts’ Dungeons was nothing but a Gryffindoresque misconception.

As far as Gerald was concerned, cunning and ambition were fairly noble features; traits with which he aligned. Death Eaters aside, some very fine witches and wizards had come out of Slytherin, and he certainly wouldn’t mind becoming one in the future.

“Which House do you think you’ll end up in, Ersa?” he inquired, eyeing her carefully while crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I feel like you’d fit right in Hufflepuff, actually.’

“No, you are wrong. I wouldn’t,” he blurted, almost defensively, though he had not meant it that way. Gerald had nothing against Hufflepuffs, obviously, but he didn’t think their ‘goody-two-shoe’ sort of reputation was one he could be— he wanted to be —identified with.

Then, he recalled her saying, just a few seconds before, how she didn’t care for the badgers too much. ‘I think Gryffindor sounds cool, but I kinda like all of the houses. Except… I don’t think I’m much of a Hufflepuff, to tell you the truth.’ That and the grin on her face made him believe that she had just been messing with him about the Hufflepuff thing.

Once he’d reached said conclusion, he narrowed his eyes at her; not menacingly, but rather, attempting to discover the motive behind her eager teasing. They barely knew each other, after all. ‘She’s bold, no doubt. Gryffindor might really be it for her,’ he thought.

Only after a while did he realize he’d forgotten to verbalize any of his observations; he’d just been staring blankly at her. Worried Ersa might have been growing convinced he was a bit neurotic, he straightened himself and averted his gaze, redirecting it towards the row of books beside him. He was not embarrassed, though. Definitely, most certainly, not embarrassed, he told himself, even when he felt his cheeks flush slightly.

“You see, I don’t think I’m… patient enough to be a Hufflepuff,” he mumbled half-heartedly, in a poor attempt of backing up his previous reply.

As if preventing him from saying something further, a strong hand landed on his shoulder. Gerald looked up to meet his father’s eyes. ‘Come on, son. We’ve still got a few errands to run,’ he informed after acknowledging Ersa with a nod.

“It was nice meeting you,” Gerald said, confidence fully recovered with the appearance of Leander. “See you in a few weeks.”

And, as he was bidding her farewell, he’d found that he was actually looking forward to seeing her again.