1 September 1901

THE MONCRIEFF FAMLY PRIDED THEMSELVES ON BEING PERFECTLY PUNCTUAL. On the morning of the first of September, each member of the family woke at the crack of dawn to make sure everything was exactly as it should be, the boys heading back to school making sure that their trunks were filled with their books and other items they wanted to bring, Jean and Francis with their brooms and owls.

Anatole himself was forced to triple check his trunk, what with it being his first year no longer needing their house governess to teach him and going off on his own to school, he had to make sure he didn't forget his clothes nor his books nor especially his wand and new cat which his parents had allowed him to have on their trip to Diagon Alley as a celebratory gift for his first year at Hogwarts.

"I want to go," his little cousin Gaspard huffed, stomping his foot petulantly, his twin brother Olivier close behind, the two looking at Anatole like he had just betrayed the entire family by being allowed to leave.

"You will soon," he said, though he used the term rather loosely, what with his being eight years their senior, but they were still three and, as a result, weren't equipped with the full comprehension needed to realize he was partly fibbing.

"Anatole," his mother sang, causing the three youngest to look up, "Darling, are you ready, we're going to be late!"

"Mum, it's only nine and it only takes an hour for us to arrive at the station," he pointed out, but he had heard the same argument from his brothers many, many times, but his mother never did listen, always insisting that it was better they be early than late.

"What if you miss the train, you won't be able to go to school!" his mother cried, looking positively faint at the prospect, "And in your first year, that would be so tragic for you."

Anatole couldn't help but agree as he triple checked his trunk once again, grabbing his list of first-year school supplies, scanning them over and pointing towards his own books, smiling when he reached his wand. He set down his list and picked up the wand, turning it over in his hands.

    After retrieving his necessary school supplies and additional cat, whom he named Helene to his mother's delight, he had been led towards Carkitt Market, the side street by Diagon Alley, towards Wands by Gregorovitch, a shop run by an unmade bed of a man who was puttering around in the cramped room filled to the brim with boxes stacked all upon each other. The man had been muttering it himself about core and wood length when Anatole stepped forward, accidentally knocking over an entire stack of wands, all of them tumbling down.

    His father had nearly reprimanded him right there in the store, but Gregorovitch had swooped in and insisted that there was nothing to worry about, using his own wand to right all the boxes, seemingly pulled back to reality as he went to shake the hands of his family, checking all of their wands and reciting their specifications by heart before turning to Anatole, bending down slightly to get a good look at him.

    "First year?" he asked, and Anatole nodded, only just able to vocalize an affirmative so as not to upset his parents, who always insisted that one must be fully engaged to seem polite.

    The man was rough around the edges, taking Anatole by the arm and tugging him around the store, letting go sharply to mutter to himself and whip a wand off the shelf and out of its box, handing it towards him. Sometimes he would let Anatole try to wave it before declaring it wrong, but often he would simply pull it away before the young blond could so much as let his fingers graze the wood.

    "Hazel, maybe?" the hummed, after twenty-three failed attempts, rubbing his chin and nodding, "Yes, yes...dragon—No! No, unicorn, ah, yes...and eleven inches? No, no...seven. And three quarters."

    Plucking out a worn brown box, he opened the top with a slight flourish, taking out the wand and handing it towards him, Anatole now unsure of whether or not to take it in his hand, but he did, surprised by how much shorter it was than all the wands he had seen. Gregorovitch seemed surprised as well, motioning for him to wave it.

Anatole did as he was told, feeling a peculiar sensation rushing up his right arm, and he shifted immediately to his left, only to find the same sensation, the same silver sparks shooting out from the tip, and he struggled to smile at the sight, because the man seemed pleased, if not intrigued.

"What is it?" Anatole asked, because he wasn't daft, he could tell when an adult was trying to hide that something wasn't entirely right.

"Well, this wand is smaller than average and that usually means that there is something lacking in its wizard. After all, the wand chooses the wizard, I am merely a vessel to help unite the both of you. Whatever you are lacking, it can't possibly be emotional, Hazel reflects its owner's emotional state and work best for one who can understand and manage their own feelings, yet you must be lacking in some character," he began to mutter to himself, his ramblings now lost on Anatole who had stared at his wand, wondering exactly how much was wrong with him.

He had thought about the man's words all the way home, hardly able to concentrate on the ice cream his father had allowed him to have, just continuing to stare at the box that held his wand, trying to understand what he could possibly be lacking if not an emotional state.

His mother had asked him why he seemed so troubled, and he pointed out that he always seemed troubled, but she was quick to correct in that he didn't always seem troubled, only melancholy, that there was a difference. He told her it was simply because he was eager to learn new spells on his wand, and she was satiated, but he wasn't.

He stood there now, staring at his wand, wondering if it had chosen incorrectly. It was so small in comparison to everyone else's, and would no doubt be minuscule by the time he finished growing.

"Can I hold it?" Gaspard asked, frightening Anatole so harshly that the boy nearly dropped his wand, only catching it at the last moment, clutching it protectively towards him, looking down at his little cousin who pouted.

"Only for a moment," he breathed, still trying to catch his breath, looking around the room as he did so, grabbing the scarf he had laid out and wrapping it around his neck so he wouldn't forget, pausing when he caught sight of the green rock rested on his drawer.

    Plucking it from its place, he placed it into his pocket, patting it to make sure it was safe, turning to find Gaspard and Olivier taking turns waving the wand, one brother waving it erratically before passing it along to his brother who waved it as well.

    "Wait, no!" Gaspard cried, frightening the other two in the room, and Anatole could only watch as his brother ripped the wand out from his brother's hand and gave it back, "Your hands are slippery, it could fly away and break and mum and dad will be mad!"

    "Okay," Olivier breathed, still shaken by his brother's shout, looking ready to cry, and Gaspard immediately hugged his brother, looking scared as well, and Anatole was still trying to process that his cousins believed his parents to be their own.

    "Boys, are you ready?" his father called, and Anatole heard the affirmatives coming from the rooms of his older brothers, and decided to do the same, finishing his final check before closing his trunk and searching for Helene who was curled up on his second pillow, purring contentedly.

    His brothers had been confused as to why he didn't want an owl like they had, and he had reasoned it was because they family already had three owls and it would be best to get something new. In reality, it was because Helene had come up to him with the demands to be pet, not leaving him be until he relented to take her home, and it was nice to be wanted, even for selfish reasons.

    Scooping her up, he placed her in her carrying cage, watching as his trunk was lifted from its place, the twins immediately moving out of the way, the three watching as it floated out the door and down the stairs, meeting his father at the bottom with the rest of his brother's things, their owls making a fuss in their cages.

    Helene meowed in confusion as her cage lifted out from Anatole's arms, floating down to meet with the others, and the boy could only wave at her, causing her to go back to sleep, realizing that there was nothing to worry about if he didn't deem it a problem.

    "Okay, boys," his father called, looking up at the five boys huddled at the top of the stairs, "We best be off."

º º º

    By the time they arrived at King's Cross Station, their mother was struggling very hard to stay composed, fussy about and hugging her boys even as they only began to load their trunks and cages onto their carts, only garnering a few confused looks from Muggles as they made their way towards Platform 9 3/4

    "Why can't we go?" Gaspard demanded, he and Olivier being carried by their aunt, one boy on each hip, and she smiled as she explained that they weren't old enough to go to proper Wizarding school yet, that they would soon have a governess to teach them all they needed to know before they could properly go to Hogwarts.

    "You excited?" Jean asked, bumping his arm against his youngest brother's, nearly sending Anatole tumbling to the ground if not for Jean catching him immediately after.

    "Yeah," he said, and there was life in his words, even if it was somewhat lack luster, his stomach churning in anticipation, "Francis said that no one was going to look out for me there."

    "Don't listen to him, he's just mad that he had to spend the rest of your party with Julie Karelian," Jean said, and the two shared a laugh at the memory of how green Francis looked, wanting nothing more than to escape and be with his friends that had been invited to the party.

    The two fell into a silence as they reached the platform, looking towards the clock, finding that they had only half an hour before the Platform closed and the train left without them. It seemed there was benefit to waking up early after all, and Anatole couldn't help but stop in his tracks, staring at it, utterly daunted.

    "Alright, it's time to say goodbye, best to stop here before we wind up going on the train with you," his father said, reaching out with open arms, "Give your old man a hug before you leave, we'll right to you soon."

    "Bye, dad," Jean groaned, now taller than the man, patting him on the back, his father wishing him a good last year at Hogwarts, reminding him to focus on his studies, and Jean nodded, though he cast a glanced towards his broom that was balanced precariously on his cart.

    "See you at Christmas," Francis said, hugging his father before moving to hug his mother, waiting as Jean also went to hug the twins who were shouting for them not to leave, much to the amusement of the Muggles and other Wizarding folk looking on.

    "Bye, dad," Anatole mumbled, going to hug his father who hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

    "You're a good son, Anatole, enjoy your time in Gryffindor, make us proud," his father said, and there was a hint of humor in his words, but Anatole could only barely manage a smile, going to hug his mother who had now burst into tears.

    "Oh, my little boy, off to school now, what am I to do with myself?" she blubbered, pressing kisses all along his face, and Gaspard and Olivier both tried to remind her that they were still there, and that they were the youngest, and no one was willing to correct them at that moment, not then.

    "Bye," Olivier said, patting Anatole's cheek, "Have fun."

    "I'll try," he said, feeling a smile tug at his lips when Gaspard did the exact same on the other cheek.

    "I'm going first!" Francis crowed, nearly catching the attention of everyone around if not for his swiftness, grabbing his cart and all but barreling into the Platform, disappearing without a trace.

    Jean and Anatole waited until people were no longer paying attention, both of them rolling their eyes at their brother who was now on the other side, Jean muttering about how stupid fourth years were before giving a final nod to his parents, disappearing through himself.

    Anatole followed a moment after, and it was only after he fell through, nearly tumbling into a small crowd, that he realized he hadn't looked back at his parents before he went, now being ushered by Jean towards the train, helping him with his things, handing Helene's cage over towards him for safe keeping while he helped load him into a compartment.

    "I'm a Prefect so I can't stay with you, I have my own compartment I have to stay in, but I'll pop in to make sure you're alright," he said, and Anatole could only nod, taking a seat right by the window, making himself as small as possible.

    "Do you have your book to read?" Jean asked, and Anatole nodded, reaching into his trunk to pull out the large Muggle book that Jean had bought for him when he and his friends decided to go out and pretend, coming back with ridiculous stories that couldn't possibly be true.

    According to his mother, who was born of Muggle parents, this book was where she had procured his name, and it was because of this book that he had procured the name for Helene. He didn't quite understand it, and he was sure it would take a lifetime and a half to finish, but he liked the way they spoke and the Anatole in the book seemed so much more interesting than himself, so he couldn't help but try.

    "We'll be leaving in five minutes, so just get comfortable, and make friends if someone comes to sit with you, ask them about their families, what House they want to be in, all that," Jean said, patting the side of the compartment door before closing it, leaving Anatole alone.

    He sighed, looking out the window at all the families that were milling about, saying goodbye to their children and hugging and crying and kissing, and he could only feel forlorn as he watched, ripping his gaze away for fear of being too sad to even move when it was time to get off, which often happened when he woke on certain mornings, much to the chagrin of his entire family.

    He began to read his book just as the train began to depart, jostling him and Helene, causing them both to startle, but they soon found their bearings, Anatole letting Helene sit in his lap while he continued to read, often telling her about the things that the Helene in the book did, though he didn't quite understand it all.

    Some time during the ride, a girl had moved to sit in his compartment, and he had raised his head to speak with her, but she didn't seem too interested in talking to him, only smiling and introducing herself as Eimi Sakamoto before turning her attention to her own book.

Anatole had wanted to ask her questions like Jean had told him, but when he tried to speak to her, she only gave him a small smile before turning back to her book. She didn't seem mean, only quiet, and Anatole could respect that, though it did make him wonder if there really was something in his character that was so lacking that he couldn't even so much as make one friend.

Then he remembered the stone in his pocket and corrected himself; he did have one friend.

When the trolley witch came along, Jean reappeared to help pay for his brother's sweets, Anatole always found of Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes, and he offered to pay for the Eimi's as well, after Anatole had mouthed his explanation as to why and the girl weren't best friends.

"Thank you," she said, looking rather embarrassed, "My parents are still trying to find a way to send me Wizarding money, we don't know how to transfer currency."

"My friend had the exact same problem his first year, don't worry, you'll get some," he said, handing her the lot of sweets that he insisted she try, "I need to get back, but enjoy the sweets."

"Thank you, Jean," Anatole mumbled, still caught off guard by how nice his brother was being to him.

He tried to continue conversation with Eimi, but it didn't last past the initial questions and explanations of what the Houses were and what books they were reading, though Eimi did take a liking to Helene who had moved to demand affection from her, so it wasn't a huge loss.

After changing into their robes, the two set their books aside, Anatole placing Helene back in her cage, and began to talk, though it was mostly stilted small talk that both despised, but felt as though was necessary, Anatole pointing out how dark it was now and Eimi affirming that it seemed to be cold out as well.

Anatole could hear Francis laughing at him from whatever compartment he was in.

When the train stopped, the two were ushered out with the instructions to leave their things in the compartments, though Anatole was reluctant to leave Helene by herself. He kept the stone on his person, but everything, his wand included, stayed behind.

The two were ushered towards the group of first years that were crowded by the lake, a large number of boats washed ashore, the man with the lantern instructing them to climb aboard, only four per boat, and Anatole was glad that he had made some sort of an acquaintance with Eimi, the two clambering in, followed by a pair of sisters who didn't seem keen on talking to them.

It didn't matter much, as Anatole and Eimi were too busy peering down at the lake, struggling to see something just beneath the surface, the boats moving on their own, though Anatole quickly stopped the moment he saw a sharp movement, his heart hammering in his chest, breaking out into a cold sweat.

They all ducked their heads as they made their way towards the cliff's edge, pushing past the cliff's mouth and down a dark tunnel, Anatole stiffening when he felt Eimi grab his hand in fear, letting go once they were able to see as they docked at the underground harbor, everyone climbing out onto the rocks and pebbles, making their way up until they reached the large oak doors of the castle, the man leading them knocking on the door three times.

"The Sorting isn't scary, my dad told me," Anatole said to Eimi, trying to convince himself to be brave for the both of them; he was going to be in Gryffindor after all, he had to be brave.

As the doors swung open, Anatole couldn't help but reach into his pocket to clutch at the green stone, the other first years moving past him into the castle, Eimi leaving him behind when she saw he wasn't moving, figuring that he was doing a Wizarding ritual of sorts.

He could do this. He was a Moncrieff, a Gryffindor, there was nothing to worry about. It was just nerves, nothing more. There was nothing to be afraid of.

With one last sigh, he stepped through the door.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 11. 23. 18 )

I wanted to include the Sorting into this, but I decided not to, because that is going to be a very long and intense scene, and I'd rather just devote a whole chapter to it with some transitional pieces before we got to 6th year Anatole, you know? So sorry about the lack of anything, but we do get some good characterizations and relationship stuff, so that's good!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!