In Thunder
| ────── | 6 September 2025 #322A4C────────────────────────────────────────── Outfit_________________________________________________________ The early hours of Saturday morning had flooded the Great Hall. Students, cheered by the prospect of no classes for the next two days, rose a symphony of noise, shouting and laughing as they piled high their breakfast plates. The house elves had wasted no expense—upon the table rested pans of scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese and chives; beef sausages seasoned with garlic, paprika, and sage; steak and kidney pies crowned with pastry shaped like dragons; and bowls of porridge drizzled with honey and topped with fresh berries. Sophie mournfully picked at a pair of seared tomatoes, dressed in salt and pepper. She felt exhausted and battered from her first days at Hogwarts, and wanted nothing more than to return to her dorm and curl up underneath the sheets until Monday morning came. After breakfast, she promised herself. Perhaps she’d read some passages of her favourite textbook, Magical Drafts and Potions. The thought cheered her immensely, and she finished her tomatoes quickly, before turning to a bowl of porridge. She was interrupted from her meal by a tap on the shoulder. She craned her neck upwards to find a student much older than herself, a Hufflepuff scarf hugging his neck. He seemed amiable enough, eyes sparkling and an easy grin upon his lips, but Sophie observed him wearily all the same. “Hey First Year,” he greeted her cheerfully. “You’re a Brown, aren’t you?” Sophie frowned, confused. “Yes, I’m Sophie Brown.” The boy’s grin seemed to grow. “Nice. Hey, I’m Sid. I know your sister, Imogen. She told me you’d be starting this year.” Sister? Sophie struggled to keep her expression calm as her thoughts turned icy cold. She had been expecting this moment to arrive since the day she stepped onto Hogwarts Express, patiently biding her careful excitement. Yet when the time finally came, she felt utterly unprepared. She tried to answer Sid, but the words refused to form, and she sat in a stupid silence. Sid seemed to catch her doubt. “Sorry, uh—” he hesitated, thinking. “Imogen’s just by the Hufflepuff table. She’ll be beside Jess and Liv, she always is. I can take you there, if you’d like?” “Yes please.” Sophie’s reply came out quiet and hushed. _________________________________________________________ |
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Last edited by Sophia Brown on 13 Oct 2025, 05:18, edited 1 time in total.
In Thunder
| ────── | 6 September 2025 #322A4C────────────────────────────────────────── Outfit_________________________________________________________ Sid’s grin returned, and he motioned her forward. Sophie slid off her seat, her porridge and dreams of bed forgotten, and followed behind Sid as he made his way across the Great Hall. It made Sophie feel queasy and almost uneasy, as she left the comfort of the Slytherin table. She caught some curious, and some hostile, glances from older students as they watched Sophie cross the room. No doubt they thought her up to no good. Sophie forced herself to ignore them, and instead focused on Sid. He seemed unbothered by the states and took large, striding steps across the floor. Sophie took every three steps for his two, and almost broke into a job in the effort to keep up. The brisk stroll came to a sudden halt in the middle of the Hufflepuff table. This table, surrounded by students bedecked in yellow and black scarves, gloves, and in one case, a particularly bright hat emblazoned with a ferocious badger, seemed impossibly louder and more crowded than the Slytherin table, and Sophie quietly thanked the Sorting Hat for his choice. Three girls sat central in the benches, basking in attention from the other students like lizards on a rock. Upon Sid’s arrival, they turned to see their visitors. Though there sat three, Sophie knew at once the one that must be her sister. In the middle, tall and slim; she had a strong, rectangular face but otherwise feminine features, long blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a light dust of freckles. Her dark lips curved into a confident smile, but Sophie could see the curious glint in hazel brown eyes. Imogen, she thought. My sister. The words sounded unnatural and foreign in her mind. “Imogen,” Sid called, “I’ve got a present for you here, a little someone who’d like to meet you.” The girl in the middle stood up, but did not say a word of greeting. Sid placed a comforting hand on Sophie’s shoulder and pushed her gently forward, so that she stood not three steps away from the older girl. Sophie imagined herself a goat put forward for sacrifice, standing by as the gods determined if she fit for slaughter. Imogen stared right at her, yet Sophie could not seem to move her tongue. In the end, after some seconds had passed (although to Sophie it seemed as if days had gone by) Imogen took a step forward, so close to Sophie she could see the thin, fading scratch on her nose and a strand of loose hair laying on her neck. Imogen then held Sophie by the chin, turned her one way, then another. She ran a thumb across Sophie’s sleep-soft cheeks, and even held up a piece of her brown hair to examine. Sophie did not move in fear. Finally, after seemingly endless minutes of silence, Imogen’s emotionless face broke into a smile. Her eyes crinkled, and Sophie forgot her fears. The older girl brought Sophie into a hug; not a soft, comforting one, but strong and anchoring. Sophie knew she should feel eased by the embrace, but her sister’s skin felt cold to the touch. “It’s good to see you, little sister,” Imogen murmured in Sophie’s ear. Deep in Sophie’s chest, her heart wept. _________________________________________________________ |
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In Thunder
| ────── | 6 September 2025 #322A4C────────────────────────────────────────── Outfit_________________________________________________________ Imogen relaxed her grip after some time and invited Sophie to sit beside her. To Sid, she shooed away with a smile. “Thank you Sid, that’ll be all,” she told him, and he left, laughing as he did. “Sid’s a good friend,” she confided to Sophie once he had left, “but his mouth is looser than an unleaded dog. By tonight, half the school should know we are sisters.” Sophie smiled nervously. To her left sat a red-haired girl with soft features and sun-tanned skin, her bright blue eyes large and intelligent. To her right, behind Imogen, sat a girl just as striking—cedar-brown skin glowed beneath a curtain of thick hair that fell to her waist, her expression as gentle as her appearance. It felt strange to sit among Hufflepuffs, and Sophie noticed from the way others glanced at Imogen and her friends, and from the girls’ easy confidence, that they were held in high regard. She must seem queer sitting beside them, not just a Slytherin but a First Year as well. “Sophia, this is Liv,” Imogen indicated to the red-haired girl, “and this is Jess,” she then turned to the gentle-faced girl. “My closest friends.” “Hello,” Sophie said in reply, shy. “You can call me Sophie.” “Sophie?” Imogen’s gaze seemed distant and sad. But then, like a dog out of water, she lightly shook her head, as if to clear herself of her thoughts. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I don’t suppose you remember your mother and father?” Sophie shook her head, and she felt ashamed. Sometimes she remembered flashes—a stony shore, her toy sheep, laughter in the grass. But those memories felt insignificant next to the face of her father, the voice of her mother. “Have you met Charlotte?” Sophie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and Imogen smiled lightly. “Our other sister, the middle child, and a Gryffindor; and you a Slytherin besides. Did you know our parents were both Ravenclaws? Proud, too. What shameful daughters we must be.” Sophie thought she should say something, but no words came to mind. She felt alone and lost, beside this elegant girl that remembered her, when she herself had forgotten near everything. The questions she’d been eager to ask for so long circled her mind but she dared not say them aloud, in front of all those people. What was it like, when we were all together? Where do you live? Who are you? She realised with sadness that her sister was as much a stranger to her as every other student at Hogwarts. But my sister all the same, she told herself determinedly. “I always have wondered what you’d be like,” Sophie said instead. Imogen smiled. She had such deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce the soul and read her thoughts as quickly as Sophie thought them. “I promise you’ll have lots of time to see me, now we’re all here together,” she said. “You’d better finish your porridge before it gets cold, and I promise I’ll see you again soon, with Charlotte too, and we can properly discuss everything.” Sophie gave her thanks and said her goodbyes as she stood up from the table. How did she know of my porridge, she thought curiously, her skin prickling at the idea, and what could she mean by everything? What is there to discuss? _________________________________________________________ |
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