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Tatiana boarded the Hogwarts Express still on her muggle clothing. Her cardigan was hanging off her left shoulder as she had taken them off due to the fact that it was getting too hot and she hadn't bothered to wear it fully again and just slumped it over her shoulder. She was trudging on her trunk, trying to find herself a compartment that wasn't already full of keen new first years or stern-looking prefects.

Once she had finally found a compartment at the end of the train, she used all her strength to push up her trunk inside it that she'd barely had anymore energy to push it up the racks that she'd just left it on the floor and passed out on the bench seats.

Sighing heavily, she extracted a few chocolate frogs and threw them across her trunk surface, sweat shining on her face as though she'd been hit hard by a huge brush of highlighter, but it all seemed to compliment her features more. Her face shone brightly under the small lanterns of the train, her dark hair was set elegantly against the red covers of the bench, whilst her figure draped over the seats like she was posing for a magazine shooting.

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Two oversized trunks and an owl cage made for quite the entourage as the pink-haired Hufflepuff squeezed throgh the corridor, his turquoise specs temporarily perched in his hair, and his wrinkled tie-less shirt suggested he'd rolled out of bed approximately ten minutes before departure. Summer camp had ended yesterday, and after flooing home, packing, sleeping, and attempting some semblance of goodbye to parents he wouldn't see until Christmas, arriving late at King's Cross was inevitable. Next time the camp ran this late, he was genuinely considering hand-writing two hundred harassment letters in red ink to every planning committee member. Actually, make that "strongly worded feedback" because harassment sounded too illegal. The train was packed, naturally. Every compartment Mamori'd peered into was stuffed with students, and the impatient huffing from some upper year behind him made it obvious that his thorough inspection process wasn't winning him any friends. By the time he reached the end of the train, only one compartment remained with just a single occupant — an objectively pretty girl. Though after a year at Hogwarts, beauty had lost its power to impress, since having a gorgeous seeker senpai who regularly transformed from stunning vision to terrifying force of nature during practice sessions had effectively immunized him against mere good looks. Mamori slid the door open with minimal politeness. "Hope you don't mind scooting over a bit. Every other compartment's full, so late arrivals get relegated to the caboose." The minimal politeness being that his words were technically polite while his action wer anything but, already wrestling his belongings inside before she could even think about objecting. Just as the trunk made it through something squishy met his foot and there sat a chocolate frog, mid-escape from its wrapper, barely a centimeter from his shoe like it had mistaken his black leather for some sort of black lily pad. Possibly colorblind with depth perception issues. He scooped it up, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapping the poor amphibian into a neat bundle with a quick knot. "This is definitely inedible now, might want to keep a tighter grip on your sweets next time" He put the struggling handkerchief bundle on his palm, pressing it with his other hand until the movement stopped. After a quick flip-check for chocolate leakage, he tossed the makeshift chocolate tomb onto the compartment's center table. "Don't forget to take that with you when you leave and get rid of it in a proper way. Judging by how unbothered you look about having food bounce around the compartment I'm guessing you've never been lectured by authority figures about food hygiene yet." He then gave her an evaluating look that was probably ruder than necessary. "First year?" It was pure speculation. He wasn't the castle's social butterfly and half the student body till this day still remained complete strangers to him, which was honestly fine by him most of the time.

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tag @Tatiana Contraire||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ooc note Just to clarify, I'm working with the idea that one of Tatiana's previously extracted chocolate frogs had jumped onto the floor and almost got stepped on by Mamori. If this doesn't vibe with what you had in mind, lmk and I'm happy to tweak it <333

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@Mamori Anezaki

Tatiana sparked up as the wild-looking, pink-haired boy entered the compartment. Her face was transfixed in an awe-strucked expression as she watched the older boy trudge his two trunks and an owl cage into the compartment, Tatiana hastily pushed her own towards the wall.

Never in her life had she seen such an extraordinarily bizarre-looking person, she doubted that pink was his natural hair color, but heck! This was the Wizarding world, anything could happen, and she couldn't exactly get her hopes up.

Seeing as the newcomer hadn't worn his tie, Tatiana could only guess what house he was, but then ultimately doubt herself, then resign to the fact that he'll probably still see him during sorting ceremony. Watching the boy carelessly throwing away the squashed chocolate frog, Tatiana could only guess that he was probably either a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor, judging from his polite entrance but rather messy appearance.

“Er, yeah”, she replied to the boy's slightly annoyed glance, diving in for another chocolate frog, “Whatta about you? You've got to be between third or fourth year, right?”, she added, guessing from the boy's height and young complexion, slightly adding the slightly mischievous aura within him that he carried to the compartment that seemed to brighten it up for some reason.

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OOC: It's alright, you have such a fun imagination, I tried to use as much positive words to describe Mamori's ..err.. unique... appearance

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Well, his intuition about the first-year wasn't exactly advanced transfiguration, but Mamori still felt unreasonably pleased with himself. Even better, she'd pegged him as a third or fourth year. Apparently he was giving off mature, sophisticated vibes — not that he was taking notes. Definitely not preening internally about it. "Nah, I'm just a second year," he admitted, hoisting the larger trunk overhead while mentally cursing his deteriorating strength. Three weeks without practice and his muscles were already betraying him like the treacherous weaklings they were. In the cage above, Jugemu managed one symbolic peck at his hand before promptly falling back asleep. Pet owls lived like pampered infants with chauffeur service, unlimited nap time, and meals on demand; especially when their owner barely wrote home, which made them essentially useless freeloaders who contributed nothing to society. After dusting off his hands and plopping into his seat, Mamori ended up staring directly at his compartment mate. Several awkward seconds passed until his brain caught up and decided to frantically search for some topic for small talk so he wouldn't come across like some creep whose hobby was staring at attractive girls all day. "So I figure we should exchange names here. I'm Mamori, you already know my year, and that," he pointed at the cage above, "is Jugemu. He's got the personality of a cranky old man, but he's drowsy right now so sneaking a pet through the bars should be safe enough if you're into that sort of thing." What do normies usually discuss with bright-eyed first years anyway? Ah yes, the holy trinity: houses, expectations, and gear check. Though first, like any proper Brit, he felt obligated to start with weather complaints. "Where are you from? I'm from Scotland, absolutely dreadful weather early this morning. My parents insisted on one last bit of quality time so we skipped the Floo and dad drove us down in the dark, rain the whole way." Which was actually a blessing in disguise, since he despised emerging from fireplaces looking like he'd rolled in soot. "Cue the whole production of loading trunks into the car boot, then hunting for parking spaces like Muggles once we got here." Some mysterious magic must have been involved to compress a seven-hour drive into under five, Mamori deliberately avoided wondering about his parents' potential car modifications. Certain things were better left unknown. "Was really tight on time, nearly missed the train entirely, so forgive my current disheveled appearance. When you see me in the corridors later I'll be significantly more handsome and presentable, trust." Spending too much time with his mother over the summer break probably rubbed off on him, now he was spilling his life story to random strangers like how Americans usually do (not that his family had any American blood whatsoever). Though Mamori still couldn't fathom why his father hadn't just dropped him at Hogsmeade Station to catch the carriages directly to school. The whole London-Scotland round trip seemed remarkably inefficient. Given that the dark-haired girl already had chocolate frogs before the trolley lady started her rounds, shes likely not a Muggle-born, which was enough information for Mamori to know what expectations and vocab to use with this girl. Avoid Muggle references, skip detailed explanations of wizarding world basics. "So, how much do you know about Hogwarts? Any house preferences?" Muggleborn kiddo's first encounter with jumping candy usually involved more screaming instead of this casual snacking.

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“Er,” Tatiana said in between the second-year, Mamori's, rants, not knowing how to insert herself within the conversation. He was pretty talkative, a bit too much of a chatterbox, Tatiana admitted. She quietly slipped out her leather-bound notebook and secretly made notes of the boy, occasionally stopping to see if the boy would hear in between the scratches of her quill.

The owl that he carried sparked an interest in her, apparently he was old, a note, his name was Jugemu, another note, she was learning more about his life than she'd ever discovered of her own parents. “Er, well, I'm from Godric's Hollow,” she told the boy, quietly slipping back her notebook through a small crack to her trunk.

“Hmm, I don't really know, to be honest, me and my godparents never really got to that part of planning my future in Hogwarts, ” Tatiana said to the boy, I suppose I could ask him for advice since he's been there and all, she thought, placing her quill on her dark curls, neatly tucking her hair behind her ear, revealing a silver rose with a single ruby on the center.

“Er, what about you? What would you think would fit for me?, ” though she wasn't really looking forward to receive advice from someone rather, childish and look-deceiving, she had to at least hear what he had to say, already planning what certain qualities she'd say to him to secure her spot in a house she'd already had in mind.

“You look like you're one to give good advice. ”

Plot twist: he probably wouldn't but did look like it.

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@Mamori Anezaki

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Too absorbed in his own monologue, Mamori completely missed the girl furiously scribbling away in her notebook, conducting an impromptu character study session right under his nose. Just as well, or he might've made some quip about Eagles and their natural habitat. Anyone desperate enough to psychoanalyze strangers on a train is definitely going to Ravenclaw without a doubt. Still, her responses had revealed three key points. First, the complete lack of questions what houses existed suggesting prior knowledge — at this point he was just going to assume she was at least a wizard-born if not a pure-blood. Second, godparents in charge, meaning parents probably out of the picture, either temporarily or permanently; though asking a stranger about potentially deceased parents within five minutes of meeting seemed a tad insensitive even by his standards. Third, not your typical bright-eyed first year, a bit standoffish really, wouldn't even give her name, energy levels clearly not matching his. "Before I answer your question about sorting advice, I should probably know your name." Straight to the point there. "And yes, I am exceptionally good at giving advice. Best in my dorm at helping people explain to professors why their homework isn't done." He approved of this with a solemn nod, radiating the confidence of someone who had successfully bullshitted through life. "Tell you what. Unless your family's dead set on a specific house, just go with whatever feels right. Ravenclaw if you enjoy that academic vibe, Slytherin for the trust fund babies experience, Gryffindor for the competitive types, and Hufflepuff for a more laid-back and warm atmosphere." Although 'warm' was used here both figuratively and literally, considering Hufflepuff's unique history with fires. With a sharp sound, the train whistle came into play and the slow change of scenery made Mamori glance outside. He stopped for a brief moment and looked at the packed platform gave way to urban sprawl. "Ah, we're moving. Once we're past all these buildings, it'll be nothing but rolling fields, windmills, and old barns. In about six or seven hours when we're nearly at Hogwarts, you will be able to see the sunset reflecting off the lake. Absolutely gorgeous." Turning back to the topic at hand, he added a conspiratorial grin, "But anyway, if there's any house you're particularly desperate to avoid, I can help workshop some creative arguments for the Sorting Hat. Last year I convinced it not to put me in Slytherin by claiming I had rheumatism and couldn't live under the lake." The fact that eleven year olds don't typically develop rheumatism was apparently lost on a thousand year old piece of headwear. Still couldn't believe that actually worked. The Hat had been surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing.

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tag @Tatiana Contraire||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ooc so sorry for this rather rushed and dialogue-heavy reply! ;w; i know i’ve kept u waiting for ages and just wanted to get something out rather than ghost u any longer

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“Er, well, they're—flexible,” Tatiana wasn't sure which words to use, her family hadn't been particularly set to one house, or so she's been told. Her voice carried with a trail of hesitation, almost as if she was looking for a phrase to use that felt right, but not entirely detached. Being away from family certainly had its disadvantages, it left fragments of stories, glimpses that were once familiar, but never the whole picture.

She made a key point at everything Mamori said, quietly certain that this would somehow influence how she was going to be sorted. Her mind absorbed every detail like parchment soaking up ink, and her calm, thoughtful gaze rarely faltered as she listened.

Mamori's somewhat good explanation opened Tatiana's mind for more further ideas, but exactly what was she among the four? She wouldn't exactly be one to call herself "competitive" , she was raised not to be a trust fund baby, and her aim wasn't really particularly on academics, and she doesn't know if she really wants that "laid-back" and "warm" experience.

“Er, is there a house for people who aren't sure if they fit that kind of criteria?”, she asked as the train started and the boy was commentating on the scenery, Tatiana thought that there was a chance that he was probably those people who'd commentate during Quidditch matches, she made a quick note to ask the boy for it soon.

@Mamori Anezaki

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It's quite a feat of someone to be able to share a train compartment for such a long time without at least once revealing their name. The two direct attempts of asking got absolutely no response. Surely Mamori should take her to meet Gemini Johnson one day — another person who treats their name as if it were a closely guarded secret of the state. Maybe he should start calling her Ms. Noname, Ms. Mysterious, or even better, Ms. You-Never-Actually-Told-Me-Your-Name when they pass in the corridors. That would be fun. But Mamori is nothing if not forgiving. The combination of her somewhat awkward social skills with her reference to "flexible godparents" paints quite the picture. Probably another tragic case — deceased parents, negligent guardians, the whole Harry Potter cupboard-under-the-stairs package. His mind helpfully supplies images of her being shoved aside by some spoiled biological children while living in perpetual darkness is quite vivid. Poor thing. At least her question about Houses was interesting. Where do the misfits and oddballs go? The ones that do not fit any of the four neat little boxes? "Hufflepuff," Mamori supplied flatly. "They're the cosmic dustbin of Hogwarts. You could show up with cigarette burns, knife wounds, ritual scars, questionable tattoos, and other things his writer can't mention due to site restrictions, and the hat would just go 'uh... Hufflepuff?'" Even though Hufflepuff is allegedly a refuge for the strays of society, Mamori noticed that anomalies are quite equally distributed among all the houses. He very often meets students who make him doubt the decision of the Sorting Hat, clear examples of "hat must've fucked up". But on second thought, these people wouldn't really fit into any other house either. The hat probably just got exhausted and dropped them into the one that had the most space left. Not really blaming it, it's just doing its job. Now, where were they in the holy trinity of the first train ride chat? Oh, right, houses covered, moving on to expectations and gear check. "Anything you're looking forward to? Particular subjects? Sports?" Mamori inquires while taking out a thermos from one of his trunks, pouring himself some Sencha. The tea turned out to be immediately disloyal to him by burning his tongue and making an ungraceful "uhh" escape from his mouth before he could continue. "I am a member of the Quidditch team. It is just like those broom racing folks next door; you eventually compete against the upper years, so the pressure's immense, they could wipe the floor with you if they felt like it." Sliding his heart-shaped specs from their perch atop his head back onto his nose bridge, the turquoise lenses working together with his matching irises to form a deeper, richer shade of blue-green. The pink-haired badger takes a deep breath, letting the fragrance of the tea permeate his nostrils while a slight steam fogs his lenses, before taking another cautious sip. "Dueling is three-on-three matches, and the groups are based on age. However, according to my totally unbiased observation, it is more dangerous than Quidditch. You get burns and such." While Quidditch only poses the threat of physical trauma, dueling, on the other hand, is supplementing the list with magical injuries. Broom racing, naturally, combines both, making it Hogwarts' undisputed champion of potential bodily harm.

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Tatiana tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, now just wondering why she hadn't given him her name yet, pondering on whether or not she should continue the conversation without the boy having to know what to call her by. Her voice, when it returned, was calm and measured. “Names are... complicated. They tend to carry weight, don’t they? People like to build entire assumptions out of them.”, she said, shrugging lightly, her eyes still on the passing scenery. “I'm Tatiana, by the way, if you wanted to know.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, as though telling the boy her name amused her, “And before you ask, yes, I do have a surname. But you’ll have to earn that one.”

Her eyes shifted back to him at the mention of houses, tilting hr head at his slight remark of Hufflepuff. “The cosmic dustbin of Hogwarts?”, she repeated, “That’s... one way to describe it. Though, personally, I think that makes it sound rather noble. The ones who don’t quite fit anywhere else usually end up being the ones who surprise everyone later.”

When he mentioned Quidditch, her eyes shifted under the light, brought up by sudden curiosity. “You’re on the Quidditch team?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. “That sounds… well, stressful, but impressive. I’ve only ever seen matches, never played. My balance on a broom is questionable at best.”

At his comment about dueling, however, she raised an eyebrow. “So, between Quidditch and dueling, Hogwarts is essentially a battleground disguised as a school, is that it?” she teased softly, laughing a little. She paused, then added thoughtfully, “Still, I suppose I’m looking forward to classes more than anything else. Not particularly for the studying part, but… for understanding how things work. Magic has rules, doesn’t it? Systems, logic.” A faint smirk crossed her lips, “And I like things that make sense.”

@Mamori Anezaki

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