Chapter Text
[ September 1st, 1977 ]
THEONA BELL had never been more nervous. She was almost sure that if, right then, her naturally shaking hands were magically cured, she wouldn't even notice, as they would still be shaking in a cruel fusion of nerves and anticipation. She cracked her neck, tilting her head side to side; a nervous tick she had developed at an early age.
She hated crowded spaces, and Platform 9 3/4 was a prime example of this. People scuffling about with little care for those around them, parents shouting to their children, children shouting back. Only minutes earlier a pair of boys had raced passed her, almost knocking her on her ass. Now, they'd returned with two others hot on their tail and actually did knock her on her ass. She wasn't surprised when none of them stopped to apologize, but chose to see the best in them and assume they just didn't notice.
Her older brother, Sebastian, was walking beside her, and did nothing but laugh when she fell over.
"You'll be fine, Theo, just keep it nifty," he comforted, offering her his free hand—the other one was busy with her trunk—and hauling her by her wrist back to her feet.
"You're really getting into this whole no-maj slang deal, huh?" Theona chuckled, brushing herself off.
"Yeah, well if I'm going to fit in with all the dudes and foxy mamas of London, then I have to," he grinned, raising his eyebrows at the look of disgust on Theona's face.
"I'm so ready to get away from you.” She sighed, speeding up so she was walking a few feet in front of him.
It was amazing to Theona just how different Hogwarts's system was compared to Ilvermorny's. Travelling by train instead of by portkey, being sorted by a hat instead of being chosen by statues. At Ilvermorny, Theona had been in Thunderbird house—though she had the choice between that and Pukwudgie—but at Hogwarts she had learned she was a Ravenclaw, with no choice in the matter. After being accepted into the school months earlier, she’d opted for a private sorting, where she'd met the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and the Ravenclaw head of house, Professor Flitwick.
She was just glad she didn't have to do another public sorting—one had been more than enough.
Sebastian jogged back up to her side, a cautious look twisted on his face, "are you going to be able to carry your trunk?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked sharply.
The topic of her injury was a sore spot for her, literally, as the nerve damage in her hands made it painful to do most things; she had to give up playing quidditch and piano, could only write for short periods of time, and had dropped more cups and plates than she could count. In truth, she probably couldn't carry her trunk, but as always she'd go down trying and never tell Sebastian when she failed.
"Are you gonna make me spell it out for you?" He questioned, a softness to his voice despite the bluntness of his words.
"Seb, I'm fine, you worry to much," she brushed him off, stopping to look at him.
"I worry the perfect amount, actually," he drawled, placing her trunk down. The whistle of the train blew, informing the siblings that it was time to say goodbye. "Well, you should probably get going."
"Yeah," she breathed, the airiness of their conversation retreating and leaving only suffocating tension. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he in turn wrapped his around her shoulders. "I'll write."
"You better," he laughed, before dipping his head down to her ear, "promise me you'll lay low, we can't afford to get caught."
"I promise," she whispered, before pulling back from the hug and flashing him one last smile, "bye."
She grabbed the handle of her trunk, ignoring the cutting pins and needles that shot through her hand. He gave her a final wave, and she returned it.
"Peace, love, and granola, Sister." He called, laughing as she left.
She and her brother were nothing if not soulmates; when the terrors of their previous life transpired, they had only each other to confide in. He, being three years her senior and the only stable familial figure she had in her life, practically raised her. So, spending their time apart was never an easy feat for either Bell sibling.
The second she was in the train and away from her brother's watchful eyes, she let out a wince, glaring down at her traitorous hand. Still, despite the pain, she began to trudge down the hall, glancing in each compartment for the solitude she was deeply craving—especially after the crowd at King's Cross. As time went on she became less and less hopeful that her wish would be granted, and her hand began to ache more and more, making her impatient. She noticed the shakiness escalate, the whole trunk beginning to teeter at the severity of her tremor.
Theona never had a short fuse. She was patient and quiet—she had to be, growing up where she had—however, if there was anything that could make her snap, it was the inability to do something, which was happening far more often than she could handle.
When her hand finally gave out and her trunk fell to the ground with a loud 'thud!' she let out a frustrated groan, glaring down at the—luckily, still latched—trunk. To her dismay, the ruckus had drawn the attention of someone in the compartment next to her, and the door slid open cautiously.
A pretty blonde stuck her head out, a whimsical frown on her face.
"Are you alright?" She asked, quirking a brow. The air around her was surprisingly comfortable, allowing Theona to relax, if only a little. "Do you need help?"
"Oh... no, no I'm okay," she shook her head, moving to pick up her trunk.
"Your hands are shaking," the girl observed, stepping out of her compartment, "here, I'll help."
"They, um... they always do that. I've got it," Theona smiled politely, picking her trunk up with the hand she hadn't already overexerted.
"Why don't you join me in this compartment," the girl offered, "I'm Pandora."
"Theona," she replied, looking around awkwardly, "I was kind of hoping to find an empty compartment, you know, get some time alone. Please, don't take it personally, I'm just not much of a talker."
"I understand, but I'm awfully sure that all the compartments will be taken by now, since the train's about to leave," Pandora reasoned, "I'm reading anyway, so I promise I won't be a bother."
Theona looked over the seemingly very kind girl and thought, what harm could it do? So, with her trunk in hand, she nodded and followed Pandora into the compartment.
"You're American, right?" Pandora asked casually, laying across one of the benches and grabbing her discarded book.
"Yeah, I'm from New York," Theona answered, sliding her trunk above their heads, before sitting on the bench across from Pandora.
"Fascinating."
And that was the last word shared. Pandora had kept her promise and soundlessly went back to reading, leaving Theona to her own devices.
She started with mindlessly looking out the window, watching the rolling hills of the Scottish country side. Then, out of boredom, moved to playing cat's cradle with the ribbon that had been previously holding the top half of her hair. This venture was fruitless, as anytime she'd get close to the last shape her fingers would tremble and she'd fumble the ribbon. Eventually, she relented to her boredom and stood up.
"I'm going to go change into my uniform," Theona announced, reaching up to the overhead compartment and popping open her trunk.
"It's a little early for that, don't you think?" Pandora questioned. From behind her Theona could hear the fluttering of pages as Pandora closed her book.
"Yes, well, what's that no-maj saying? Better sooner than later?" Theona shrugged, swiping her folded robes from the top of her trunk and snapping it shut.
"I believe that's it," Pandora nodded, "would you like me to come with?"
Theona spun back around, a smile on her lips—Pandora's sweetness was almost sickening.
"I'm okay, thank you, Pandora," Theona said, sliding open the door.
"You can call me P or ‘Dora," Pandora stated, sitting up in her seat, "all my friends do."
A feeling of pride swelled in Theona's stomach, Kind Pandora considered her a friend. With a grin dancing on her face, she left the compartment.
She began wandering through the hall, slowly concluding that she should've asked Pandora the way to the bathroom before leaving. When she turned to go back and ask, she realized she had no idea how far she had gone or where their compartment was. Idiot. With a defeated sigh, she looked to the compartment door on her right, the only one in sight without the curtains drawn, and knocked.
A bespectacled boy with messy black hair stood, and actually startled Theona with how attractive he was. She was pretty sure he was one of the four boys from earlier, when they'd knocked her on her ass. He slid the door open, looking down at her with a raised brow.
"Um, I'm sorry... I just, I can't seem to find the bathroom. Could you maybe.. point me in the right direction?" She inquired, shifting on her feet. To her relief, a small smile tugged at his mouth.
"You're American?" He asked, ignoring her request with little hesitance.
"Uh, yeah," she gulped, shrinking into herself, "I just moved to London over the summer."
"Interesting," he noted, leaning against the frame of the compartment door. There was something mischievous behind his eyes, she didn’t like it.
Theona gazed behind him at the other three boys in the compartment, positively identifying them as the others who had contributed to Knockdown-Gate. One looked thoroughly amused by his friend; he had a type of aristocratic beauty, with his shoulder length ebony curls and high cheekbones (as shallow as it was, she found him even more attractive than the boy she was currently talking to). Next to him was a slightly smaller boy, with an adorable giddiness on his face, watching the interaction between her and his friend like it was peak entertainment. The last boy, Theona immediately decided she liked, as he was the only one who seemed almost annoyed with his friend, burying his face into his book.
She looked back to the boy in front of her, reminding him, "the bathroom?"
"Right, it's the door just down there," he pointed down the hall, and, lo and behold, there was the bathroom door. She swore it hadn't been there earlier.
"Well, thank you," she went to leave, but the boy caught hold of her blouse. She pulled herself out of his grasp, looking up at him with resignation.
He quickly retracted his hand, "sorry, it's just.. I didn't get your name."
"Theona," she breathed, still staring at him warily.
"Theona..?" He trailed off.
"Bell. Theona Bell," she offered reluctantly, waiting for a moment to see if he'd let her leave.
"I'm James Potter," he replied, a cheesy grin on his face.
She gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile, "okay."
With that, she scurried off down the hall.
—
PANDORA HAD been ecstatic to find out they were both, not only in Ravenclaw, but also in the same year. She had rambled on about how she hoped they would be sharing a dorm and how it would be so nice to actually have a friend in her house all the way up to the castle.
Hogwarts was exactly how Theona imagined it; with magic coming off in waves and a warmth you wouldn't expect wafting from stone walls. The great hall had taken her breath away when she first entered, and even now as she sat at the Ravenclaw table, idly watching the first years' sorting, she kept glancing up at the charmed ceiling and floating candles.
After the sorting, Dumbledore delivered a speech. The majority of it spoke of solidarity in a time of war. Theona didn't find herself inclined to listen, and neither did the rest of the student body, it seemed. She, and everyone else in the room, was already painfully aware of the war, they didn't need to be constantly reminded of it. Of course, Sebastian had spoken in great lengths about how the war was the main reason why it was London they decided to run off to. Their parents would hardly expect them to go to a country in the middle of a civil war. She felt a little guilty, using a situation in which so many suffered for her own shield.
She was relieved when the feast finally appeared in front of her. There were so many foods to choose from, half of which she didn't recognize. Pandora began to explain each one to her, however she had to stop when Theona couldn’t collect herself after hearing about the British delicacy 'spotted dick'.
She began piling food onto her plate: mashed potatoes, fried chicken, steamed peas and carrots, stuffing, everything and anything she could ever want. Despite the fact that she hadn't played her beloved sport in over a year, she still ate like a quidditch player, and she still would as long as her body allowed her to.
"Why are the Marauders looking over here?" Pandora questioned under her breath, leaning across the table.
"The who?" Theona hastily wiped her mouth, before following Pandora's eye-line to see James Potter and his group of boy toys failing to subtly look towards her. When they realized she'd caught them, they quickly reverted to eating. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, I met James Potter on the train—asked him for directions—but I didn't think I'd made an impression. I didn't even meet the others."
"Well, they're sort of like Hogwarts royalty," Pandora explained, "the little blonde, that's Peter Pettigrew. He doesn't have much substance, but he's sweet." Theona was shocked at how Pandora could make even an insult sound nice. "And there's Sirius Black, the one with the long hair. I've known him for most of my life—pureblood connections and all. Remus Lupin is the tall one with the book, he's the brains of the group; always planning their pranks."
"Their pranks?" Theona raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, they're constantly in detention for pulling ridiculous pranks. It's probably best to stay off their radar," Pandora clarified casually, digging back into her bowl of pudding.
"By the looks of it, I'm already on their radar," Theona whispered with wide eyes.
"Huh, well, let's hope it turns out for the best."
Theona shot the clique one last look, cracking her neck before turning her gaze to her empty plate, "yeah, let's hope."