houses: slytherin, gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw
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The clock face over the station flickered with pale morning light, its long black hand ticking forward until it cut across the Roman numeral XI. Eleven sharp. You exhaled, a breath curling in the cool air, and adjusted the strap of your suitcase. Right on time, the deep whistle of the train rolled through the platform, and in the next moment, scarlet blur and gleaming brass swallowed the space before you—the Hogwarts Express had arrived.
You could see your wavy reflection from the windows as you stepped closer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t taken magical trains before. Your own school had its own way of sending students between continents. But this was different—an exchange, a year abroad, a chance to stand in the heart of a place everyone whispered about. Hogwarts.
The doors clattered open with a hiss of steam. You gripped your ticket tighter, moved forward with the wave of students, and the first thing you did after stepping on was collide shoulder-first into someone.
"Ah—Sorry!", you hear a voice come out almost at the same time as you. You look up to see a girl, lean and laid back. She had white hair with some black streaks and striking purple eyes, one hand lifting to steady the broomstick case slung across her shoulder. Beside her was a tall boy—dark, long hair and a scar across his face.
“Kaneshiro,” the first introduced quickly, brushing off the bump like it was nothing. “This is Ryohei. You good?”
“Yeah,” you managed, giving a small nod, clutching your suitcase a little closer to your side.
They didn’t linger; the current of students pulled them along toward a nearly full compartment. As you stepped up the stairs into the train. The heat immediately embraces you as you start walking towards finding a suitable seat. You let yourself drift the opposite way until you found an empty one near the back. The corridor chatter dulled the moment you slid the door shut, sealing yourself in with only the faint hum of wheels beneath the floor.
Your suitcase clicked softly as you set it down. You slipped your headphones over your ears and leaned back against the cushioned seat, letting the rhythm of the train lull your thoughts. The steady rumble beneath your feet and the faint echo of laughter from the corridor outside made it almost easy to imagine you were alone, just a traveler passing through.
That illusion broke the moment your compartment door slid open with a sharp clatter. A tall boy stepped in without hesitation, his dark hair falling to his shoulders, a thin moustache catching the light when he grinned. His voice boomed, though muffled by your music, until he noticed you weren’t reacting. He paused, waiting until you tugged one side of your headphones down.
“Hey—uh, is there somebody else sitting here? Everywhere else is packed, and we haven’t found a seat yet,” he said, still speaking louder than necessary.
“Um, no,” you answered, setting your headphones in your lap. “I’m the only one here. You can sit if you want.”
“Awesome!” His smile widened, and he straightened, already leaning halfway out the door. “I’ll bring my friends as well, if that’s alright?”
You gave him a small nod. That was all the permission he needed.
“Oi, in here!” he shouted down the hall, his voice carrying easily over the chatter.
One by one, more students spilled into your quiet space. Four in total—first a lean boy with sharp, composed features, his dark eyes flicking around the compartment before settling on you with a polite incline of his head. Then a girl followed, confident and striking, her long blonde hair smooth as glass and her posture effortlessly elegant. Behind her came another boy, his round face warm with an easy smile as he murmured a quick thanks. The last was wheeled in—a boy with brown eyes bright beneath his fringe, maneuvering his chair with practiced ease as he offered you a cheerful nod.
They settled quickly, filling the space with the scrape of trunks, the shuffle of cloaks, the low hum of introductions murmured between them. The tall boy—the first one—flopped down opposite you with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere.
“Dom, by the way,” he said simply, flashing you a grin like you’d already agreed to be friends.
And just like that, your quiet compartment was no longer yours.The compartment didn’t stay quiet for long. Once the first introductions were out of the way, it grew lively—snatches of laughter bouncing off the walls, playful arguments sparking between Dom and the others, the occasional thud of a Chocolate Frog hitting the window when it escaped its box. Wrappers crinkled, Bertie Bott’s beans were passed around with exaggerated dares, and someone’s owl hooted indignantly from its cage overhead.
Hours passed in a blur of chatter and scenery rushing by outside. The countryside stretched from rolling green to shadowed forest, and by the time the sky had changed into late afternoon, you decided it was time to change.
Sliding the door closed behind you, you returned a few minutes later dressed in your new uniform—black robes falling neatly over your shoulders, the fabric still stiff from never being worn before. The others glanced up from their seats as you entered. Dom let out a whistle.
“Oi, look at that—proper Hogwarts gear,” he said, tugging on the lapel of his own robes. Only then did you notice the details: the inner lining of his robe was deep crimson, matching the loose tie at around his neck. June’s shimmered golden-yellow, while Shelly’s and Minu's shone with a Ravenclaw blue. Even Jay’s robe carried that same blue mark of his House.
Yours was plain. Just black.
Dom squinted at you for a moment, then leaned forward. “Are you not sorted?”
You shifted slightly, clutching the fabric at your side. “Oh—I’m an exchange student.”
The whole group blinked in unison before the realization lit across their faces. Dom grinned wide, his elbow hitting Minu’s chair playfully.
“Well then, that makes sense,” he said, nodding with such exaggerated wisdom you had to bite back a laugh. “If that’s the case, ask me any questions you’ve got. I’ll help you. These guys will, too.”
The others nodded—June with eager warmth, Shelly with a small but genuine smile, Jay with a quiet dip of his chin, Minu adding a bright “Of course.” For the first time since stepping onto the platform, you didn’t feel completely out of place.
The train whistle echoed, long and low, as the landscape outside darkened. Lanterns flickered to life in the corridor. The rumble slowed to a crawl until, finally, the train screeched to a stop at a shadowed station.
You were herded with the upper-years toward the waiting carriages—dark, ornate, and drawn by creatures with skeletal wings, invisible to some but very real to others. The ride jolted forward, wheels crunching gravel, the night air sharp against your face. Then, over the rise of the hill, the castle came into view.
Hogwarts. Its towers clawed at the night sky, windows glittering gold against the darkness.
The Great Hall doors swung open to reveal an expanse lit by floating candles and a ceiling enchanted to mirror the stars. Long tables stretched into the distance, House banners draping from the walls, golden plates glinting in the candlelight.
While the others broke off toward their tables, you were steered to the side, near the staff tables. A professor—Mahon Jo, who introduced himself to you— rested a hand on your shoulder as the Sorting Hat ceremony began. One by one, the first-years stepped forward, the Hat shouting their House for the hall to cheer. You remained where you were, an observer, apart.
When the last cheer faded, the feast appeared. Platters gleamed with roast chicken, steaming potatoes, golden puddings, and flagons of pumpkin juice. Dom, seated nearby at the Gryffindor table, was already piling food high, waving a chicken leg at you with an unbothered grin. “Oi, don’t just stand there! Eat something!”
You also notice the two you bumped into earlier—Kaneshiro and Ryohei, at the Gryffindor's table, staring at you occasionally curiously. Probably wondering why you were not sorted.
Shelly inspected her plate with a delicate critique before sampling the treacle tart. Minu’s hands reached for the potatoes as dishes refilled themselves the moment they were emptied, June happily piling his plate while talking to everyone within reach.
And you, still on the edge of it all—felt both very far away, and closer than you’d expected.
By the time the last golden plates cleared themselves away and the candles floated higher toward the enchanted ceiling, the Great Hall buzzed with sleepy contentment. Conversations dimmed to murmurs, the scrape of benches echoing as students began filing out in clusters behind their prefects. Robes swished, laughter bounced off the stone walls, and little by little, the room emptied until only a few professors lingered by the staff table, some you learned their name were Professors' Mario Nam, Bale Armstrong, Sangho Choi, Mark Scott, and Michele Doss.
You stayed where you were until a firm but gentle voice drew you back.
“Come along, then,” Professor Mahon said, his sharp eyes softening slightly when they landed on you. “The others will be led to their common rooms. You’ll be shown to your quarters.”
A small flick of his wand lit the sconces along a narrow side corridor. You followed his footsteps, the echo of your shoes stark against the stone while muffled laughter from distant staircases reminded you how different your night would be from theirs.
The path wound past portraits who craned curiously from their frames—witches with books half-open, knights tipping helmets as you passed, a few whispering behind gloved hands as though trying to place your face.
Finally, Mahon Jo stopped at a modest wooden door tucked between two tall windows. He opened it with another flick of her wand. Inside waited a small, tidy room: a single bed tucked neatly against the wall, a wardrobe, a desk stacked with parchment and ink. A lantern glowed faintly in the corner, casting warm light that softened the otherwise space.
“Your quarters,” he said, voice warm but welcoming. “The faculty wing is quiet, but you’ll be close enough to classes. The Potion Class is nearby, as well as the Slytherin House Dorm, which is closest to you out of the rest. Breakfast is served in the Great Hall at eight. I trust you’ll settle in.”
With that, he gave you a short nod and departed, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
You stood alone in the silence, suitcase still heavy in your hand. Beyond the window, the castle grounds stretched in shadow—the Black Lake glittering faintly, the outline of the Forbidden Forest looming against the horizon. Somewhere deep in the stonework, muffled cheers and chatter carried from the dormitories where the other students were still laughing, still meeting new friends under House banners.
You set your suitcase down with a soft click. The lantern flickered once, steadying. For the first time all day, you were truly alone.
And though the bed looked inviting, you weren’t sure yet if you’d be able to sleep in a castle that still felt like it was holding its breath around you.
dividers by: @mycupoffanfiction
