Archive of Our Own

Many Are the Stars I See, But in My Eye No Star Like Thee

The deafening whistle of the steam locomotive rings out loudly over the voices and the hooting of owls announcing boarding time. With his hands clenched tightly around his cart, Bob moves forward, pushing his belongings, his enormous eyes both curious and full of wonder. He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't afraid, because he was, he was completely terrified, the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering madly in every possible direction. For a moment he stopped, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go now. The person who had visited him to deliver his letter and break the news that he was a wizard, the day after his eleventh birthday, hadn't been very precise about that point. He looked at his ticket, immaculate and gleaming, like a golden ticket, all of it still impossible to believe.

Fine, he was a wizard, however hard that was to believe. All his life he'd been told he was pathetic and useless, that when he found out he had magic his first thought had been that it must be a mistake, or that someone was playing a very cruel joke on him. It wouldn't be the first time; Bob was more than used to cruel treatment by now.

At his feet, cats wandered freely, rubbing their small tails against passersby's legs; some simply ignored them, others petted their little heads while the small feline decided whether to stay put or move along. The scarlet steam locomotive sounded its whistle again, and this time the few who still had to board did so hurriedly. All along the platform, a row of parents stretched out, hugging their children and giving them last-minute advice. Bob felt strange and a little melancholy. After a quick glance, he confirmed that he was possibly the only child alone on the platform. He puffed out his cheeks and kicked a small stone, then kept pushing his cart, looking for someone who could help him.

"First years, Hogwarts first years, come here and hand in your tickets," called the train guard. A man with a long face and a peculiar mustache that, to Bob, looked like two thin noodles.

"Excuse me…"

"Your ticket, please," the man asked, giving him no chance to say anything else.

Bob pulled his ticket back out from one of the pockets of his huge hoodie. The man took it and immediately destroyed it with a strange, sharp-toothed device. Only once the ticket had been dealt with did the guard step aside, letting him board. Bob struggled hard to get his trunk down off his cart, and struggled even harder dragging it down the long corridor as he tried to find an empty spot. Well, wasn't all of this supposed to be magic? Wouldn't it be better to use magic to help with the students' trunks?

He went a fair way, stopping to catch his breath or peer through the compartment windows to see if there were any free seats. He started to regret a little having been one of the last to board, because nearly all of the compartments were already full to bursting. It was a symphony of laughter and joyful expressions. Older students were reuniting, bursting with happiness and camaraderie. As he moved on looking for somewhere to spend the rest of the trip, Bob couldn't help overhearing lively conversations about how everyone's summer holidays had gone, or about something called Quidditch. Little by little, he began moving away from the noisier carriages toward a quieter section. There, the exuberance gave way to intimate, low-voiced conversations, composed and alert faces, and proud, haughty looks. Embarrassed, Bob hurried to find somewhere to hide. He didn't like drawing attention, and he felt that staying any longer standing in the middle of that carriage's corridor would only draw more mocking looks than he could bear. Luckily, he managed to find a compartment that appeared to be empty. He slid the door open and saw that the place wasn't as empty as he'd thought.

The soft light coming through the window lit up an immaculate seat, a dark leather satchel, and a pair of perfectly folded gloves.

Then he saw her.

Sitting by the window, back straight, a book open on her knees, was the prettiest girl Bob had ever seen in his life. Her green dress, impeccably cut, was covered by a coat of the same shade, finished with shining buttons. She wore tall brown leather boots, laced with fine, perfect cords. And her long, silky blonde hair fell over her shoulders with a slight movement each time she turned a page of her book. A black ribbon gathered it at the top, and Bob, without knowing why, thought of Alice, the one from Wonderland. She looked up from her reading and gazed at him deeply, with a hint of curiosity. Bob saw then a pair of lovely hazel eyes, warm and bright.

"Yes?" the pretty girl asked, in an accent he couldn't place. She closed her book carefully.

Bob swallowed.

"I… thought it was empty. I'm looking for somewhere to sit."

Her eyes dropped to the heavy trunk Bob had been dragging along for the last couple of carriages. And, for a second, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

"Do you need help?"

"Huh?" he replied, like a complete idiot.

The girl let out a small laugh, brief and musical.

"I said, do you need help with that?"

Embarrassed, Bob nodded. The girl rose gracefully from her seat; her small, slender hands brushed against his for an instant as she came to stand beside him. Once again, Bob's cheeks burned.

Together they used all their strength to haul the heavy trunk into the compartment. Bob's face turned as red as a beet as he pulled with all his might. At last, with hard work and a great deal of effort, they managed to fit the trunk right on top of hers, leaving just enough space so the compartment didn't look overcrowded.

"That was intense, thank you so much for helping me. That was really kind of you," Bob said, relieved that his ordeal was finally over.

"Don't mention it," she said, and Bob took in her smile for the second time. "My name is Yelena, Yelena Belova," she added, offering him her hand.

Bob took it; indeed, it was small and warm. And soft, so soft. He'd once read in a storybook that knights used to kiss the hands of their ladies, as a sign of utter devotion. He'd found that strange back then, but seeing Yelena, who looked like a little princess, he couldn't help but side with the knights from the books. Right in that moment, Bob could have done it. Instead, against his own wishes, he merely shook her hand in greeting.

"I'm Bob, just… just Bob."

"Just Bob? No last name?"

"It's… it's Reynolds."

"Bob Reynolds." Yelena had a peculiar, endearing way of pronouncing his name; her accent made it sound so much sweeter and more tender.

"Actually, it's Robert Reynolds." Once again, Bob's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She'd think he was some fool who couldn't even say his own name properly.

Yelena went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as if deep in concentration, and after a while she smiled again, as though she'd reached a conclusion.

"I like Bob," she concluded, at the same time returning to her earlier position by the window. Once more, she picked up her book but kept it closed. Instead, all her attention was on Bob. "Come, sit down."

Bob closed the door behind him and took his seat, facing her. For a few seconds the only sound was the steady clatter of the train's wheels on the tracks and the distant murmur of other students. Yelena opened her book again, returning to the page she'd marked with a pretty bookmark. Bob looked at the cover and read the title aloud.

"Hogwarts: A History?"

"Have you read it already?" she asked, without looking up from the yellowed pages.

Embarrassed, Bob shook his head. Once again he felt foolish and out of place. He barely knew he had magic, and he hadn't had the chance to open his school books for fear of being caught by his father. Ever since that little professor's visit, his father, Mr. Reynolds, had decided to treat him even worse than before. It was a stroke of luck that he'd even made it to King's Cross.

"I'm sorry, I… I still don't know much about magic, you know?" He scratched his cheek, avoiding his gaze nervously.

Once more, Yelena closed her book, and all her attention turned back to Bob.

"Muggle-born?" she said.

"Sorry, what's a Muggle?"

"A person without magic," Yelena replied. "Someone common and ordinary. So your parents are Muggles, right? You're Muggle-born."

Bob nodded, not knowing whether that was good or bad. He couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious. Next to Yelena, he looked like a beggar, in his secondhand clothes at least two sizes too big. He looked at his own hands, thin and bruised, so different from Yelena's small, well-kept hands, which were warm and soft.

"Really?" Yelena's smile widened, making her look like a mischievous cat; she rested her face on her palm, and her eyes shone with excitement and curiosity. "This is the first time I've ever met one."

"Really?" Bob couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "So there aren't any Muggle-borns here?"

"There are plenty of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts," Yelena replied, and Bob sighed with relief. He would hate to become the center of everyone's attention. If he'd learned anything, it was that a life lived quietly in the shadows, away from attention, was far more satisfying.

"But then why did you say this is the first time you've seen one?"

"My blood is pure," Yelena replied, and Bob noticed a certain note of irritation in her voice. "There aren't many purebloods left in the wizarding world, not since the sacred laws of purity were repealed. But my mother is a traditionalist. She insists I carry on our magical legacy and avoid anything that might contaminate me."

"Contaminate?" Bob asked, his eyes going wide. "Like… something dirty?"

Yelena nodded, and he felt shaken. He lowered his head and looked at his hands, wringing the sleeves of his sweater. Something dirty, of course. Well, why would he be any different? His father had already said as much. He wasn't anyone special, just a freak who didn't belong with them. When he'd found out he had magic, he'd allowed himself a bit of hope that he might find somewhere to belong, after nearly a lifetime spent living in corners and silence. But now he knew that even in the place he was supposed to belong, he'd be seen as the filth they'd always told him he was.

He felt fingers under his chin, small, warm fingers that lifted his face and made him hold his head up. Yelena looked at him intently, with her stunning, beautiful hazel eyes, and once again, Bob's cheeks burned.

"Are you a wizard, Bob?"

"Sorry?"

"Don't apologize." The girl's voice was firm and steady; he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "I asked you if you were a wizard, Robert Reynolds. Answer me."

"Yes, yes I am."

"You are a wizard, Robert Reynolds," she went on, her delicate fingers slipping away from his chin, and he found himself wishing they'd stayed a little longer. "A wizard should never hang his head."

"I don't think I'm a real wizard."

"Enough," she exclaimed. "Of course you're a wizard. You got your letter, you have a wand. You have magic inside you. My father says magic only comes from extraordinary beings — even if you were born to Muggles, you're capable of great things."

No one had ever told him he was capable of anything great before. For a long time, Bob had seen himself as someone ordinary and useless. Someone cowardly who flinched at his father's shouting and hid in the attic, hoping to go unnoticed. He'd lived so long among the attic mice that he'd started to feel like one himself. He looked at Yelena; the light from the moving train's window filled her with a glow Bob had never seen before.

She was like a small light, someone capable of illuminating everything.

"I am a wizard," Bob said again, this time with more strength and conviction.

"Exactly," she smiled at him, filling him with a confidence he'd never felt before.

"And I'll be an extraordinary wizard."

"Extra points for enthusiasm, though we've still got a long way to go before we're recognized as the brightest witch and wizard of our generation."

"Then I'll study hard," Bob declared, still full of that newfound enthusiasm. He was now more convinced than ever that he was capable of achieving anything.

"That's the spirit."

The sliding door opened again and two more people came in. They looked exhausted, sweat running down their foreheads. A boy and a girl. Judging by the girl's irritated expression, Bob guessed the two of them had been arguing.

"Finally!" the boy exclaimed, dragging his trunk into the compartment and plopping down next to Bob without waiting to be introduced.

He was a blond boy with rosy cheeks and blue eyes, with an energetic, overbearing manner. The girl, by contrast, was calmer and more composed. She had straight black hair down to her shoulders, the ends tucked inward. She settled down next to Yelena. From her jacket pocket she pulled out a pretty embroidered handkerchief and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"You're an idiot, Walker," the girl beside Yelena said, shooting an irritated look at the boy next to Bob. "I told you we should've gone to the Slytherin carriage from the start."

"Yeah, well, I was hoping her imperial majesty wouldn't have picked the snakes' side for our very first trip to Hogwarts," the boy said, giving Yelena a look of annoyance. "I'm serious, Belova. Weren't you supposed to have told your mother where to shove it? Why are you hiding out in the Slytherin section?"

"I'm not hiding," Yelena replied, staying perfectly calm, as though already used to dealing with this boy — which, for some reason, irritated Bob slightly. "I just can't stand the noise the lions make."

"Thank you," said the girl beside her, backing her up. "I mean, honestly, what's the point of holding tarantula races up and down the corridor? It's childish and stupid."

"Oh, come on, Ava. It was awesome."

"It absolutely was not!" the girl jabbed her finger at the boy across from her, clearly indignant. "And I hope a prefect punishes them. They deserve every point taken."

"Such a wicked heart, Starr."

"Better than your Gryffindor sentimentality."

"Whatever you say, killjoy."

Bob had no idea what was going on. Just a moment ago he'd been sharing a quiet compartment with Yelena, and now two more people had joined them, making as much noise as a dog and a cat in the middle of a fight. Seeing his confusion, Yelena cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Since introductions seem to be lacking, allow me to make them. John, Ava, this is my friend Robert Reynolds. Bob, this is Ava Starr and John Walker."

Both children nodded and offered their hands in greeting. Bob shook each of them, still a little embarrassed. It was the first time he'd shared a space with more than one person. He felt the old insecurity creeping back in. They both seemed nice enough, but how long would it take them to realize he was nothing but a loser? Once again he was becoming his own worst enemy through self-sabotage.

"So, Bobby, what part of London are you from?"

That name gave him the same unpleasant feeling as nails scraping a chalkboard. At once he remembered his father calling him that mockingly.

"I'm from Manchester, but I was born in America."

"Holy shit!"

"Walker, language," Ava scolded him, but John completely ignored her.

"I'm from America too! I lived there until last year. Now I live in northwest London, in Hampstead Garden." He grabbed Bob's hand again and shook it enthusiastically. "I'm John Walker, it's a genuine pleasure to meet you."

"No need for a second introduction, Walker," Yelena smiled, watching the scene with amusement. Only Ava judged it foolish and pointless.

"We're countrymen, Belova. You wouldn't understand."

Yelena huffed, blowing one of her loose strands of hair upward. Bob found it easy to lose himself watching her — he'd discovered, to his own surprise, that he liked watching her expressions and her elegant movements.

(It's… just to get to know her better.)

He told himself again.

"So," Ava began, smiling good-naturedly after a well-earned few minutes of quiet, "do you two have any idea which house you want the Hat to put you in?"

"Gryffindor, obviously," John replied almost immediately, as if the question didn't deserve much thought. "It's the coolest house."

"I'm sorry, what?" Yelena lowered her book once more, turning to John. "I'm sorry, but I thought I heard you say Gryffindor was the best house, when it's clearly Slytherin."

"Keep dreaming. Gryffindor is the house of the brave."

"You mean the house of idiots."

"I heard that, Ava," John said, determined not to let anything those two girls said get to him. "The thing is, you little snakes just don't know how to appreciate what's truly good."

"On the contrary," Yelena replied proudly. "A true Slytherin can recognize what's invaluable with a single glance. Just look at Bob." At the mention of his name, Bob jumped slightly in his seat. "The moment I saw him, I knew he'd be someone extraordinary."

"Well, we're both American, what's so special about that?"

"That's not what I mean," Yelena corrected him. "He'll be the greatest wizard of our generation. I know it. I know he will be."

Bob's cheeks burned, the heat reaching all the way to his ears. He felt a prickling behind his eyes — tears wanting to spill out. Shyly, he glanced sideways at Yelena; she smiled at him and winked, which only made things worse. Even if he had no confidence in himself, Yelena had more than enough for the both of them.

"What about you, Bob? Any idea where the Hat will put you?" John pressed. Bob shook his head, his brown curls swaying.

"Honestly… I don't know anything about magic. I'm Muggle-born."

"A Muggle-born? So you've never even seen magic before?" Ava asked gently.

"So what? I'm a half-blood," John said, brushing off the whole issue of Bob's blood status, "and I haven't opened a single book either."

"That's because you're lazy," Ava scolded him again. "If you don't sort yourself out, you'll have trouble with your classes."

"Won't happen, because I'll be glued to your side to copy your notes," and this time it was Ava's turn to blush. Apparently, what John had said was enough to keep her quiet, at least for the next stretch of the journey.

"So, Bob," John went on, "since you don't know anything about the houses, let me give you some advice. Gryffindor is always the best."

"The house of the brave, right?"

"So you do know something."

Well, he only knew because it had been mentioned just a few seconds earlier. There was nothing spectacular about that.

"Gryffindor would be lucky to have Bob," Yelena said, catching everyone off guard. "I wouldn't mind climbing all those blasted stairs just to visit him."

"Yelena is really smart," Bob said, feeling an indescribable warmth in his chest. "How do you know so much? Is it from the book you're reading?"

"Partly," Yelena answered honestly, tucking one of her blonde strands behind her reddened ears. "My older sister goes to Hogwarts. She's in her third year. I know the castle through her."

"Great, then you can show us the best places to explore," John said.

"Why would I do that?" one of Yelena's eyebrows rose.

"Because Bob's coming with us. Obviously."

"Oh, I… I don't think I'd want to get in trouble," the timid boy said.

"See, Bob's got sense and good judgment. You should learn a thing or two from him, Walker."

"Bob's going to be a Gryffindor, he's got the courage of a true explorer."

"And how would you know that?" Ava asked.

"I can spot a fellow Gryffindor the moment I see one."

The compartment burst into laughter. Unlike anything he'd known before, the laughter carried no cruelty or mockery. It was friendly, warm with camaraderie. For the first time, Bob allowed himself to relax; his chest felt light, as though every weight on his shoulders had simply melted away. So this was what it felt like to have friends?

For the first time since he'd set foot on that train, he was able to picture, for himself, a bright future.

The journey went on; the boys stepped out to the bathroom to change into their robes, leaving the girls the privacy of the compartment to do the same. Ten minutes later they returned to find the girls already dressed and seated, waiting for them. Now, wearing his school robes, everything felt much more real to Bob. The train came to a stop, and a voice announced they'd arrived at Hogsmeade station, and that first years should leave their trunks on the train and gather with the larger group. Bob, Yelena, Ava, and John obeyed, and as soon as they stepped off, the cold night wind greeted them. That made the group huddle closer together for warmth.

"First years! First years, over here!"

A huge, furry face beaming with joy made its way through the crowd of children, lighting the path ahead with a large lantern.

The group of children followed the half-giant along what seemed to be a narrow path. It was so dark they could barely see past their own noses. They heard the sounds of night birds nesting in the leafy treetops. Everyone walked in complete silence, save for a few murmurs that helped ease the anticipation a little. At the end of the path, they arrived at the edge of an enormous lake, its waters so still it looked like a great mirror in which hundreds of stars were reflected. Atop a tall mountain across the water, its windows shining beneath the starry sky, stood an impressive castle with countless towers and turrets.

It was the most spectacular thing Bob had ever seen in his life.

"Impressive, isn't it?" a soft, husky voice whispered in his ear. Yelena's breath was warm, and she smelled of jasmine.

So sweet and comforting.

Bob nodded, his heart pounding hard in his chest. For a second, he feared waking up and finding himself back in that dark room, with his father's shouting and the sound of his fists pounding on the door.

(He can't hurt you anymore) he thought to himself (You're so far away, you're safe.)

"No more than four to a boat!" the gamekeeper shouted, pointing to a fleet of small boats lined up along the water's edge.

"Bob, take my hand," Yelena said. And under the moonlight, surrounded by stars, Bob thought she looked more radiant than ever. His fingers wrapped around hers, feeling the warmth of her hand, its softness. They both climbed aboard and settled side by side. John and Ava boarded as well, taking the two remaining seats.

"Everyone ready?" the giant man went on; he had a boat all to himself. "Then, FORWARD!"

And the small fleet of boats moved all at once, gliding across the lake, smooth as glass. Everyone fell silent, gazing up at the great castle looming over them as they drew closer and closer to the cliff where it stood. The full moon reflected on the black water, forming a silver path that seemed to lead straight into the heart of Hogwarts castle. The boats slid smoothly over the water, carrying them toward the castle rising majestically on the far shore. The towers and battlements stood out sharply against the starry sky, and the windows glittered like diamonds in the darkness. The castle looked like a sleeping giant, wrapped in a halo of magic and mystery.

"It's beautiful," Bob heard Yelena say, and a soft smile spread across her lips. The stars shimmered in the sky, reflected on the lake's surface. Yelena watched, delighted. "It's like they're dancing."

For a moment, Bob's attention turned to the girl beside him. He couldn't look away from her. The golden moonlight touched her face, lighting up her eyes. She seemed to glow even brighter, like a star in the darkness of the night. Her long blonde hair swayed gently in the night breeze, as if dancing along with it. He studied her profile, her cute little button nose, her firm chin, every feature of her face perfectly harmonious. It was hard to look away from her. Truly, Yelena Belova was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

The boats stopped at what looked like an underground dock. At the order to disembark, everyone obeyed in orderly fashion and were led once more up a set of stone steps that brought them to a small door. The giant man knocked three times, and a woman with a stern, firm face opened it. She was tall, wearing a tall pointed hat and an emerald green robe.

"Here they are, Professor McGonagall. The first years."

"Thank you very much, Hagrid," the witch replied. "I'll take it from here."

The woman opened the door wide. The entrance hall was very spacious. The stone walls were lit with blazing torches, the ceiling so high it couldn't be seen, and a magnificent marble staircase stood before them, leading to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall along a path marked on the stone floor. The professor led the first years into a small, empty room off the entrance hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, because while you are here, your house will be something like your family at Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitories, and spend your free time in your house common room."

Bob only hoped that, whichever house he ended up in, he'd still be able to see Yelena.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Professor McGonagall continued. "Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will cost it points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I expect each of you to be a credit to whichever house you join. Now then, is that all understood? Then let's proceed. Form a line and follow me."

And then, the enormous doors swung open. The Great Hall was even more impressive than Bob had imagined. He felt small, a little overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the place. 

The most wonderful thing was the absence of a ceiling. High above their heads, a magnificent starry sky stretched out. Like tiny diamonds, the stars seemed to shimmer and light up absolutely everything. Above them, thousands upon thousands of candles floated in the air over four long tables, where the older students were already seated. The tables were set with plates, cutlery, and golden goblets. On a raised platform at the head of the hall stood another great table, where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led them there, stopping them and lining them up in front of the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces watching them looked like pale lanterns beneath the bright candlelight.

Bob swallowed hard, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. He'd never been the center of attention before, and now countless eyes were fixed on him. He tried to calm himself; the last thing he wanted was to be the first year who fainted. The whispers of the older students reached the group of first years, and glancing quickly around, Bob discovered he wasn't the only one terrified — even Walker looked a bit green. Suddenly, he felt Yelena's soft hand take his own. Unlike him, Yelena seemed much calmer, and it was that calm in her that made him feel relieved.

"We'll stick together from now on."

Together? Bob's face filled with hope. He tried to say something clever.

"That's nice," he replied, smiling at her nervously.

He mentally slapped himself for that. Seriously? What was wrong with him?

Suddenly Professor McGonagall called for silence. He hadn't noticed when a stool had been placed there; on top of it sat an old, pointed hat. The hat's most pronounced fold opened, forming a wide mouth, and it welcomed them by singing an enthusiastic song about each house and its respective virtues. When it finished, applause rang out, and Professor McGonagall had to call for silence once again. She then unrolled a wide scroll and projected her voice across the hall.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said. "Ashbourne, Eleanor!"

A round-faced girl with brown braids stepped out of the line, put on the hat, which covered her down to her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.

The table on the right applauded enthusiastically as Eleanor went to sit at the table she now belonged to.

"Belova, Yelena," Professor McGonagall called next, and Yelena stepped forward bravely, not before giving Bob a smile before making her way to where the professor waited. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her, covering nearly half her face. The Great Hall stayed silent until the hat's great fold opened and shouted with force.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The green and silver table applauded loudly. Yelena stepped down from the stool and went to join the table she'd been assigned to. She shook a few hands before taking her seat.

"Corbett, Beatrix."

"HUFFLEPUFF."

"Dunn, Rowan."

"RAVENCLAW."

"Prince, Callum."

"SLYTHERIN."

"Reynolds, Robert."

Bob's heart stopped for a moment when his name was called. With his legs turned to jelly, he walked over to Professor McGonagall and took his seat, in full view of everyone waiting in silence for the final verdict. The hat fell over his head, covering him down to his ears. His brown curls somehow managed to poke out from beneath the old hat.

"Hmmm, let's see, what have we here? Oh, how wonderful! A very bright and promising mind. Yes, you'd certainly do well in Ravenclaw. Though, there's also generosity and selflessness in you. Despite everything you've had to go through to get here, all the pain a child like you should never have had to experience, your heart remains noble and good, all the same. Even in your fears, you push your way through the darkness like someone brave who refuses to be defeated by the cruelty of men."

(Brave, me?) Bob thought, feeling a little foolish for having a mental conversation with a magic hat. (I… I'm not brave… I couldn't defend anyone even if I wanted to… I'm weak and cowardly.)

A useless boy.

"Weak and cowardly?" the hat went on, letting out a snort. "What nonsense! There, boy, I can see it as clearly as the stars. There's a valiant heart in you, the soul of a warrior of gold and stars who wants to grow strong to protect the ones he loves most."

And then, Bob thought of Yelena, and felt the warmth rise in his cheeks again. Being a knight for her wouldn't bother him at all — he could kiss her hand like in the storybooks, he could hold her steady whenever she needed someone to lean on. If Bob had to be brave even once in his life, it would certainly be for her.

If Yelena were ever in trouble, Bob would do absolutely anything to save her, even burn down heaven and earth. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. And the red and gold table rose to its feet, cheering loudly. A few even whistled. Bob got up from the stool, trying not to trip, and hurried over to the lions' table, where they shook his hand and gave him friendly claps on the back.

"Welcome, kid, you're a Gryffindor lion now."

A good number of children followed after him. Some went to Hufflepuff, others to Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Gryffindor didn't fall behind either, gaining a fair number of new members. When the hat called Ava, it placed her in Slytherin, next to Yelena. The two girls hugged and sat down together. Bob felt a small pang of envy; it would have been nice to be in the same house as Yelena. But, from what he'd heard, only purebloods were admitted there. A Muggle-born like him wouldn't have stood a chance.

(That doesn't matter,) he tried to reassure himself. Yelena had promised they'd stick together. Maybe they'd only known each other for a day, but something inside him told him he could trust her.

John was the last to be called.

"Walker, John."

The hat stayed silent for two long minutes. But, to Walker's relief, the hat granted his wish and placed him in Gryffindor, right next to Bob.

Bob clapped enthusiastically, surprised at how happy having Walker as a housemate made him. Well, it was a familiar face, and besides, he'd been very kind to him, aside from the few times he'd called him Bobby. But that wasn't really his fault.

"Told you, didn't I?" Walker said, sitting down next to Bob with a huge grin. "We're Gryffindor brothers now."

Brother. Bob didn't have one, and he was grateful for that. But hearing Walker call him "brother" didn't feel unpleasant at all — quite the opposite, it sounded like something wonderful.

"Gryffindor brothers," he repeated.

And the future had never looked so wonderful.