At first there was only blue.
Solid, comforting, all-encompassing blue.
A stillness so vast it might have been eternity.
Then - motion. Not outside, but within.
A flicker, a tremor, a pulse: I am.
The thought had no words, only a swelling of presence, a ripple across the dim silence. Vision seeped into him like dawn through heavy curtains. Shapes - uncertain, blurred - floated against the blue glow. The curve of a pale oval wall, the faint shimmer of light bending on its surface. He understood nothing, yet fragments pressed at the edges of his mind: vessel, protection, womb.
He looked - no, felt - downward. Limbs, small and fragile, suspended. Fingers curled like sleeping creatures. A body that was his, though he had only just learned the word his.
Awareness layered upon awareness. I… I am.
The walls hummed faintly. Something beyond the glass moved. A shadow? A presence? He strained toward it, slow as thought in water, until his gaze caught the suggestion of a figure on the other side. No face, no detail - only the certainty of being watched.
And then it began.
A surge in his chest, unfamiliar and consuming, bubbling upward like fire made liquid. Terror, wonder, ache - all tangled in the same impossible burst. The imprint of memory whispered the word to him, gentle and undeniable:
Love.
The blue dissolved into darkness. And through it, distant and shuddering, came the cry of a train whistle.
The dream ended.
+-~=~-+
Awareness came as quickly and sharply as the sound that roused him. Quick blinks became a wide-eyed stare, and Gabriel winced as the fleeting light of the setting sun lanced through the window and caught his eyes. He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, a yawn pulling at him as he tried to gather his bearings.
The cabin around him was narrow and wood-paneled, with cushioned seats facing each other beneath a rack where trunks rattled slightly with the train's rhythm. The window at his side blurred the passing countryside into streaks of gold and shadow, the faint whistle of the engine echoing beneath the steady clatter of wheels on rails.
'Right,' he thought, 'the Hogwarts Express.'
That was when he noticed - embarrassingly late - that he wasn't alone.
Across from him sat a small, almond-skinned girl with a mane of bushy hair so unruly it seemed to have a mind of its own. Wide brown eyes, warm and bright, were fixed on the massive book balanced over her crossed legs. She seemed utterly absorbed - until, just as he stirred, her gaze lifted to meet his.
The look she gave him hovered somewhere between startled and… something he couldn't quite name. It turned into a frown almost immediately.
"Oh, you're finally awake," she said briskly, snapping the book shut with a decisive thud. "I don't think you should have been sleeping, you know. What if a Prefect had come by? They might have thought you were being disrespectful. And besides-" her eyes flicked over him with disapproval, "you haven't even put on your robes yet. We're not too far from Hogwarts, I wager. You really ought to be ready."
Gabriel blinked at her, a little taken aback. Idly, his mind latched onto a detail of her appearance he hadn't noticed before she opened her mouth.
'Small, angry, and buck-toothed,' he thought, a faint snort escaping before he could stop it. 'She's kinda like Monica.'
The girl's frown deepened at the sound.
"Sorry," he said quickly, attempting a smile that he hoped looked more disarming than awkward. "You reminded me of someone else. I'm Gabriel - Gabriel Moretti, I mean. Nice to meet you."
He extended a hand. She stared at it for a second, caught in some private thought, before seeming to collect herself. With posture suddenly very straight, chin raised, she reached out primly to shake it, her small hand practically disappearing inside his own grip. Her face betrayed something between awkwardness and forced composure.
Gabriel smothered a grin at the sight.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she declared, her voice carrying the faint air of someone reciting something practiced. "I'm a Muggle-born, actually. Professor McGonagall herself came to see my parents. Imagine, she just appeared on our doorstep in full robes and wide hat and told them I was a witch! They didn't believe her at first, of course, so she transfigured the kitchen table into a pig. That convinced them fairly quickly."
Her words tumbled out in a rush, gathering speed as she went.
"She was the one who took me to Diagon Alley, too. Oh, it was absolutely marvelous - like stepping into a completely different world. I've already learned all our set books by heart, of course. The Standard Book of Spells, Magical Drafts and Potions, A History of Magic-" she tapped the enormous tome on her lap, "and I've even read a few extras, just in case. It's all so fascinating, don't you think? I simply can't wait to start lessons."
She paused only long enough to draw breath, then tilted her head at him expectantly.
Gabriel, still half-shaking off the remnants of his dream, wondered if all British witches talked like runaway trains. He let out a chuckle at the thought.
"Right, uh… I'm a half-blood. My mum's a witch, and my dad- well…" Gabriel drawled off, uncertainly, with an embarrassed smile, "He's a gorjala. A giant."
Hermione frowned, confused.
"How does that even work?" She asked, then her eyes widened as her face turned red, and she startled as though hearing herself too late. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, no, it's fine!" Gabriel interrupted, waving it off with a laugh. "Don't worry about that." He assured her, before grinning mischievously and shrugging non-chalantly, "But if you're so curious I'll tell you. You see, my mum's a bit on the crazy side so-"
"You don't need to explain! Really!" She exclaimed embarrassed, pushing her hands forward as though trying to shove the conversation away.
Gabriel did his best to hold back his laughter, shoulders shaking with mirth, he opened his mouth to continue teasing her, but was cut short by the cabin door sliding open with a clatter.
A round-faced boy stood in the doorway, his eyes already watery and his hands twisting together in nervous misery. His blond hair stuck out at odd angles, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
"Sorry- sorry to bother you, but… have either of you seen a toad? I've lost mine. His name's Trevor."
Hermione was on her feet almost at once, forcibly composing herself as if she could use the problem in front of her in order to forget the previous embarrassment. "No, but don't worry, we'll help you look. What does he look like? When exactly did you lose him? How long ago did you last see him?"
Gabriel blinked. 'We'll help?'
Neville stammered something about Trevor being "just an ordinary toad, brown, a bit warty," while Hermione rattled off questions faster than he could answer. Then, with all the authority of a general preparing to march out, she turned to Gabriel.
"You should probably put on your robes before we go," she said briskly.
Gabriel laughed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief, but grinning. "Yeah, sure."
Hermione and Neville stepped into the corridor, Hermione already outlining a plan of where to search first, while Gabriel leaned back against the seat, amused by the fact that, apparently, he had been drafted into toad-hunting duty without a single say in the matter.
=========================================================
Once Gabriel had wriggled into his new school robes and tugged the wide-brimmed wizard's hat down over his hair, the three of them set off down the corridor. Neville trailed along nervously while Hermione marched with purpose, knocking briskly on doors and demanding reports of Trevor's whereabouts.
Gabriel couldn't help but find it amusing that it was exactly what Neville had already been doing.
Cabin by cabin they went, to a variety of reactions.
One housed a pale boy with long, ink-dark hair, lounging lazily while looking out the window, he barely gave them any attention. Another held four girls, two blonde and two dark-haired - one with plaits and a cheerful face, another pale and elegant, another with freckles and round cheeks, and one with sharp eyes that missed little. Then came a small compartment with a black-skinned boy sitting beside a pale girl with a neat black bob; both looked mildly exasperated as Neville's tale of the missing toad was repeated yet again.
Most of them responded with either mild irritation or thinly-veiled amusement. Understandable, really, since Neville had already asked all of them before Hermione commandeered the search.
Finally, they slid open a door to find a red-haired boy holding his wand over a fat old rat in his lap. Beside him sat a skinny boy with round glasses and striking green eyes behind them.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," Hermione asked at once.
When they shook their heads, she zeroed in on the redhead's wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
The boy muttered something about turning the rat yellow, gave his wand a flick, and... nothing happened. Hermione sniffed.
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells for practice and they've all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all - it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course - I just hope it's enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?"
Before the flabbergasted boys could muster a reply, Gabriel's chuckles cut through the silence.
"Hermione, don't tell me you rehearsed this speech beforehand?" he asked teasingly, grinning.
Hermione flushed scarlet and shot him a glare. Gabriel only laughed and stepped forward, extending a hand toward the boys. "I'm Gabriel Moretti. Don't mind her, she means well."
Both boys let out a small sigh of relief, seizing the chance to recover their composure.
"Ron Weasley," said the redhead, a bit defensively.
"Harry Potter," said the boy with glasses.
Hermione's head whipped back to him, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, I knew it! I read all about you, of course, in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century-"
Gabriel only half-listened, his eyes lingering on the boy beside her. Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Killer of the most recent Dark Lord. He... didn't much look like the mythical hero people have made him out to be. Skinny, a bit too small for his age, with messy black hair sticking out in every direction. His clothes sagged on his frame, clearly a few sizes too large, and the seat around him was littered with wrappers and untouched sweets. His green eyes seemed to spin a little under Hermione's torrent of words.
'Not really a legend, is he?' Gabriel thought. 'Just a boy with a scar.'
By the time he surfaced from his thoughts, Hermione had already swept to her feet again, declaring that they ought to continue the search. She bustled toward the door, calling Gabriel along.
He followed, but just before stepping out he turned back. The looks on Harry's and Ron's faces made him laugh outright - half-dismay, half-terror that Hurricane Hermione might whirl back in for another round.
"Sorry about that," Gabriel said, grinning. "Mind if I nick one of these?" He gestured at the pile of sweets.
Harry blinked, then shrugged. "Go ahead."
Gabriel plucked a blood lollipop from the pile, winked, and stepped back into the corridor. Hermione was already waiting with her arms crossed, tapping her foot.
Still grinning around the candy, he thought to himself: 'If nothing else, this whole Hogwarts thing may be funnier than I expected'.