Arya's hands actually trembled. She was outside of her home for the first time ever. Given that women weren't allowed to leave the house other then work, none of her mothers were there. Instead the young girl was there with only one of her dad's. When she had tried reaching for his hand, he slapped her hand away. It happened a second time and the male actually snarled a thread at her. So her face flushed and she looked down. As it was, she wasn't really sure about any of this. There were so many people around them, but the girl couldn't focus on them at all. Instead she was stuck looking at the train. It was so big. Did no one else find themselves concerned at how big the train was?

Her father had rattled off a list of rules that Arya had not heard at all. Instead she was too busy panicking about the size of the train. How was she supposed to make friends in something that big? Honestly, she was debating about the whole thing when her father practically pushed her onto the train. She lost control of her luggage and more or less stumbled into the corridor of the train. Where was her stuff? It didn't matter. She'd deal with that later. Right now she needed to find a place to sit.

She tried a few compartments but people either just glared at her or motioned for her to move on. Was she the only one who didn't have friends already? Tears stung in her eyes, and she found a bathroom. Without any hesitation at all, she locked the door and stayed there the rest of the trip up. Her prayer had been that once the train stopped, they'd be done. She could just go to her room and go to bed. She didn't even care if she skipped dinner any more.

It seemed like she had no guardian angel or anything like that. There was a sorting. Did everyone know about this? Getting lined up in alphabetical order wasn't too bad. Still, no one around her would talk to her. Was there some sort of secret handshake she didn't know? She'd showered earlier in the day, so she didn't thinks he smelled bad. Why wouldn't anyone be her friend? She started chewing on her lip as she looked around. She almost wished she had never left her home. Sure, this was an adventure, but it wasn't a very good one. Was there a way to make it better?

The whole sorting process dragged on forever. By the time they reached her name, she felt close to being sick. Maybe skipping lunch hadn't been the smartest idea, but it wasn't like she was going to eat when she was hiding out in the bathroom. There was a hat placed on her head and then nothingness. Despite the whispers she'd heard when they were lined up, she didn't hear the hat talking. There was no debate going on about houses.

However it must have made a decision because before too long, Arya was being ushered to the Gryffindor table. Why was she in this table? Sure, she looked good in red, but she hadn't actually paid any attention to what it meant being a Gryffindor lion. What if these people didn't like her? The people on the train hadn't wanted to be her friend. The people in line hadn't wanted to be her friend.

Still, she was determined to make something go right. Forcing a smile on her face, she turned to the person who was on her left. "Hi. I'm Arya! Wanna be friends?" Thankfully the other person didn't make her wait for an answer. The boy, who she later learned was named Rory, agreed. And after that, her night finally started looking up. She was actually able to eat and enjoy her food while getting to talk to her new friend Rory.

After the feast, it only got better. She was disappointed she couldn't share a room with Rory, but the disappointment when she was directed to her own bed. She didn't have to share a bed? Actually the young Gryffindor ran her hand over the comforter on it. She'd never owned anything this nice. She climbed into her bed hesitantly. While she wanted to stay up just in case this was some sort of cruel joke, she'd never had a bed of her own. She'd also never slept in a bed this nice before.

She was asleep seconds after her head landed on the pillow.

Pansy Parkinson had known that she'd be sorted into Slytherin. It was pretty much a given, at this point. Had she not been, she was sure her parents would have been ashamed. She was going to tell them - and everyone - that the Hat had immediately decided on the house, and had had no trouble with the selection. She was not going to tell them how the Hat had lingered for a few seconds on the thought of Ravenclaw or - the horror - maybe even Gryffindor. She couldn't risk being shamed by that fact. It would be far too embarrassing. 

But, in her head, she would always replay the scene. The moment she'd waited eleven years for, the moment she was going to finally join the ranks of the rest of her family. She would remember how the voice of the professor had begun to capture some strain, since she was near the end of the alphabet and he had had to announce quite a few names before getting to hers. She would recall the way the hard stool had been just too tall so that her feet wouldn't touch the ground when she sat on it, dangling haphazardly below her, kicking back and forth nervously. And she would always, always remember the way the Hat had sat atop her head, whispering to her as it debated its choices. At least it hadn't brought up Hufflepuff as an option.

Soon, though, she was released from the Hat's grasp and moved towards the emerald sheathed table. Among it sat students with names she not only recognized, but also respected. She shot a sneer towards the neighboring tables, one clothed in crimson and the other a rich yellow, with the sapphire blue of Ravenclaw peeking over by the far wall. She was part of the best house, she believed. She was home. She sat down next to a boy with pale, silvery hair, and skin to match. A smirk lit her face as he nodded at her. Draco Malfoy - no introduction needed, their families went way back. 

The ceremony drew to a close and she was glad, a perk of being near the end of the alphabet. She didn't eat much, merely picking at the food in front of her. She moved it around with her fork, her appetite virtually non-existent. She was too excited to be here, and there was too much to see. However, even at her young age, she knew she needed to reign in the excitement, clothe it in a charade of coolness and collectedness. She didn't want others to think she was too eager - that would make for the wrong reputation. If the Parkinsons had taught her anything, it was that she wasn't to be too eager or too weak. It simply wouldn't do. She stared at the food, attempting an expression of nonchalance, despite the emotions bubbling up inside of her. 

The meal inevitably came to an end, and she collected herself, following behind the silver-haired boy and his cohorts. The small group seemed to have already made a powerful impact, and she elbowed ahead to walk beside them. There was nothing like establishing a position of power early on - respect must be demanded, from the very start. She wouldn't have it any other way. As they neared the exit of the Great Hall, Pansy turned quickly to meet the eyes of the boy, smiling again, before she was abruptly elbowed in the side. Huffing, she craned her neck, glaring at her assailant. 

The boy in question was decidedly less brilliant than the one she was walking with. Curls flopping in every which direction and Hufflepuff crest embroidered on his chest, he looked very much not worth her time. An eye roll escaped her, and she frowned at him. "Watch where you're going, you twat." She spat, shoving past him. She caught sight of his reddening cheeks, but couldn't be bothered to care if she had hurt his feelings or not. Actually, she hoped she had - it would show him his place here at Hogwarts. Likely, he was a mudblood who would definitely need to quickly learn such lessons. She was happy to help.

She sped up to catch up with the rest of the group, Malfoy shooting her an approving sneer, as he had seen her shoot the biting words at the other young man. Feeling a bright tinge of happiness anchor somewhere in her chest, she grinned at him, glad to have left an even stronger impression. Down the stairs they went, heading for the Dungeons. Despite the cool dampness of it all, Pansy instantly felt at home as they moved through the door and into the shadowy common room. The prefect leading them directed the two sex-segregated dorms, then went off to his own activities. Some of her classmates moved to the dorms, exhausted. Some remained circulating the common-room, hyped up on excitement and unable to even think of sleeping. 

Before she even knew what she was doing, Pansy threw up her arms in the air. She had learned from a young age that if she was going to be small by nature - which she was - she was going to have to be loud to command attention. She bellowed out across the Common Room, and faces turned her way, voices falling silent. She had command of the room, just the way she liked it. Smirking. she continued her proposition. "I think we need a game, to get to know each other better, no?" She suggested. Malfoy nodded his agreement as she looked sideways at him, which pushed her forward confidently. "Truth or dare!" She declared, bouncing on her toes before dashing to the middle of the room. 

The others gathered in a circle around her, and she decided to take the first dare. She dared a fellow Slytherin girl to go procure a Gryffindor scarf, giving a ten minute time limit. The girl came back exactly eight and a half minutes later, scarf in hand and smirk in place. Soon, the dares were flying, and she soon found herself the victim. The announcer was a boy, perhaps a third year. He dared Pansy to kiss someone in the room. As she was only eleven, she'd never done such a thing. However, she shrugged, as if it were no big deal. Turning to the side where a girl with red hair sat, she snuck a quick kiss on the unsuspecting girl's lips, whose cheeks instantly turned as red as her hair. Pansy giggled. 

A while after, the crowd grew tired, and soon they all retired to their respective dormitories. Stationed in hers, Pansy found herself wishing, ever so slightly as she laid in bed, that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw after all - at least she'd have a window for the moonlight to filter in. She did always have a soft spot for the moon. As her eyes drifted close and her mind wandered off, she found herself hoping that she'd made the right impression on everyone tonight, always feeling the constant pressure of her family name, always wanting to live up to it.