Headin' to Hogwarts (Mystical Nica and Alvynear)
On the Hogwarts Express, in the second-to-last car, a girl with choppy blue hair and powder-blue eyes was perched on one of the seats with the sleeves of her robes shrugged down over her forearms. She was turned away from the window, so she wasn't watching the scenery, but she looked equally engrossed in what she was watching-- the screen of a Muggle gaming device. With a manic grin on her face, she clicked away at the console, her thumbs practically a blur, her teeth nipping into her lower lip. "Ha ha, die, you little--" she looked up suddenly, as if disturbed, although she was the only person in the car, and she peered fixedly at the wall for a moment, then went back to playing her game. The front of her shirt twitched and a slim black rat poked its head out of her collar. "Are you done nesting?" When the rat didn't answer but gave her an expressive blink, the girl snorted. "You are not allowed to have ratlings in my bra, you know. Seriously. Nobody wants to be buddies with a girl who has baby rodents in her boobs."
The rat snuffled at the girl's collar again and disappeared back into her non-impressive cleavage. The girl glanced over her shoulder out the window; they hadn't left the station yet, so she guessed, correctly, that the train would fill up and she would probably have to explain the random shifting of her shirt and vest to whoever was cursed to share the compartment with her. She might have pitied them, if she'd thought about it for more than the three seconds it took for her to become engrossed in her game again. The rat returned to her nesting.
On the platform, a large red-headed family was preparing to board. The girl who was already on the train had her back to them and seemed completely oblivious, even as they said their goodbyes just outside. The girl herself was a transfer from an American school, forced to close when a mysterious fire destroyed three of the dormitories. The girl had a few theories about the fire, but she had kept quiet, more out of necessity than inclination. She had had no friends to tell. Very few students had seen her as anything less than the odd girl with the multicolored hair. Even fewer had figured out her name, even after attending classes with her for four years.
"It's alright, Mum, I'll keep him in line," George Weasley said merrily, hugging his frazzled mother with a smile that could melt any heart. He knew it could, because he frequently used it to get himself and his twin out of trouble at school. He winked at Fred over his mother's shoulder; starting today, there was a lot of mischief to be made. George, despite being the gentler of the twins, was just as much of a trouble-maker. They were attached at the hip, and even when they were playing Quidditch they were rarely apart.
Like Fred and the rest of his family, George was tall and redheaded with friendly brown eyes and a grin that promised all sorts of fun, possibly at the expense of any Slytherins within range. His nose was dusted with freckles (a few more than Fred sported) and he was fond of counting them when he was bored (something Fred teased him relentlessly for). When no one was looking, he was a mother hen to rival his own formidable mum, but he hid it scrupulously and had told Fred that he would lock him out of their room if he ever told anyone. Fred's response had been to yell George's secret, for which George had shoved him into the hallway. Luckily no one had heard and Fred had been laughing too hard to be very angry.
Molly Weasley, the matron of the Weasley clan, patted her son on the back and turned to Fred. "I'll see all of you at Christmas. Be good."
George had to suppress a snort of laughter that he almost choked on. To prevent himself from cracking up entirely, he grabbed Fred's arm. "Well, love you, Mum, but we should get going," he said, his face reddening as a giggle pushed its way between his lips. Dragging Fred up the ramp and into the train, George finally burst out laughing in the empty car. A girl with blue hair fell off her seat.