Chapter 1: Introductions

The two sisters were a mystery to everyone at Hogwarts. The older sister had to be sorted like the first years, but she was four years older. Yet the strangest part was that her younger sister was far too young to speak, let alone go to school! Why would Headmistress Mcgonagall let this happen? What’s so special about these two girls? What is their story?

Marie knew she would be an outcast. She knew everyone will question why the headmistress would let an American transfer to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny. She was questioning it herself! However, she didn’t have the time to pay these people any attention. Marie knew the risks of getting close to others. She knew they are all backstabbing strangers and Marie didn’t want her dear innocent sister to get hurt. She will let no harm come to Cynthia. So she will wear a mask, pretending to be open.

……This will be hard, considering Marie has very little control over her emotions. Yet was somehow a good liar….? An oddity indeed.

Anyways, about the one-year-old, Marie was having trouble getting her little sister to be quiet in the great hall. The first years looked confused and everyone else gave the two girls scowls, if they weren’t ignoring them. Well, except for the teachers. THEY gave Marie and her sister pitying looks. Oh, how the Ilvermorny Thunderbird hated looks of pity. She already had trouble reading emotions, but it was harder to see if the looks are fake or true.

“Marie Flint!” Mcgonagall yelled, startling said girl out of her thoughts.

Oh, how Marie despised all the eyes turning to her as she sat on the stool, staring at her sister when Mcgonagall gently took Cynthia, and never looked away as the Sorting Hat was finally placed on her head. Marie hated being last. Since she was a transfer, an oddity, and certainly not a first year, she was placed last on the list.

A Flint, hmm? Interesting…. So, young Flint, what house do you belong to? The hat chuckled. Besides Thunderbird.

“Please, just stop calling me Flint!” Marie whispered. “My name is Marie. And it always will be.”

What a personality! The sorting hat grumbled before continuing. Hmmmm, I can see why you’re a Thunderbird. Very adventurous indeed.

“Are you reading my mind?!” The girl hissed, peeved.

Witty, sharp, intelligent, and wise in times of need for strategy. I see now……

“See what?!” Marie frowned at the hat.

RAVENCLAW!!! The Sorting Hat shouted for all to hear. Yet only few cheered, some only clapped out of politeness. Marie huffed. Those few minutes without her sister in her arms felt like an hour.

As Marie went to the Ravenclaw table, her robe’s insignia changed from the colors of red and gold to blue and bronze. She will miss her friends at Thunderbird, even if they stabbed her in the back. Marie felt her hand go to her wand. It was a 12 ½ inch phoenix feather ebony, with a slightly springy flexibility. Marie smiled, for her wand matched her perfectly.

“Wow, I can’t believe it!”

Marie turned to the boy next to her. Another fourth year. “Can’t believe what?” She asked in a polite voice.

“That Hogwarts excepted a transfer! That there even was a transfer! Don’t you know that’s super rare? Well, I’m sure you do, considering you are that transfer,” the boy sounded sheepish at that last part. He extended his hand. “I’m Patrick Jameson, nice to meet you!”

Marie shook Patrick’s hand. “Well, Patrick, I’m sure you’ve heard my name. ‘Marie Flint’?”

“I sure have!” Patrick smiled. “Did you know that flint is used to light dynamite? And that ‘Marie’ is the French cognate of ‘Mary’ which is derived from the Hebrew ‘Miryām,’ a name that has debated meaning? Some believe that it means ‘sea of bitterness’ or ‘sea of sorrow.’ Others believe the alternate definitions of ‘rebellion,’ ‘wished-for child,’ or ‘mistress or lady of the sea.’”

Marie raised her eyebrows, but her eyes were unamused. “You talk a lot. Everyone thinks that the Ravenclaws are silent and reserved, only speaking when it matters, but you’re different.” She paused, watching the boy fidget and squirm awkwardly, nervous. But then the dirty blonde smiled kindly at him. “I like you. Your unorthodox.”

Patrick perked up. “Actually, I-!”

Marie rose a finger to silence him. In all seriousness, she said, “You shall be a member of my posse. Or, in much nicer terms….” The girl stopped, now uncertain. Patrick looked at her with curious expectancy. She gulped and looked down, seeing Cynthia’s calm jade eyes smiling at her. Cynthia’s cooing gave her courage (A/N: Why her cooing??? Ya weirdo!).

“My… My friend?” Marie looked up determined, but still had an aura of nervousness (given that she was slightly biting her lip). (A/N: This is the part authors would normally say “give mah baby a break!” Not me. Nope. I say: SUFFEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!! *Insert crazed evil laughter here*)

Brilliant. Patrick slightly frowned internally at this thought. Brilliant?! I just met her! Not to mention the fact that she seems so high strung. Stupid brain… Wait, why is she so suspicious of others? Marie also tries to hide it, even if she fails. And that baby………

“Of course!” Jameson smiled, about to continue, when the headmistress tapped her spoon against a goblet.

“Your attention, please!” Mcgonagall softly smiled. The lady stood. “Let the feast begin!”

Marie found it strange. Why was the headmistress wiping tears when she sat down? Why were all the teachers wearing melancholy smiles? But then the smell of food took away all of her sensible thoughts. You would think she never had food in her life the way she was feasting!

“Marie, is it?”

The girl in question, gulping down the rest of her chicken, looked up at a seventh year. She had bright, messy, straight blonde hair and blue gray eyes. Her light freckles and gentle smile reminded Marie of her mom.

No. No, no, this isn’t Mom. Stop it. Stop it NOW, Marie Flint!

“Yes, that’s me. You are?” Marie put a small, polite smile on her face.

“I’m Karen Dipscern. If you need anything, find me?” Karen put her hand out for Marie. “I promise you will enjoy Hogwarts, as botched as the name is.” Karen smiled with her tongue out, eyes sparkling.

No, no, don’t be teasing. Please stop reminding me of my mom.

“Thank you,” Marie grinned and shook hands with the older teenager.

Once Karen was gone, Marie turned to see her new friend with his mouth agape.

“You spoke with Karen!” Patrick’s caramel eyes were wide. “You spoke with Karen!!”

“Yes, I did,” Marie frowned. “Why are you so excited about it?”

“Karen talked to you! She’s friendly, sure, but she hardly talks to anyone younger than her!”

“I don’t see how age has to do with friendships.”

Patrick didn’t know how to respond to that. Marie sighed. Thankfully saving them from the awkward conversation, Cynthia chose this moment to whine for food. Marie’s attention snapped to the one-year-old, and if anyone else tried to talk to her they would be nothing but fading mist in her mind.

“Mahk! Mahk!” Cynthia whined.

“Cyn, I told you, it’s milk. Not ‘mahk.’” The older sister cooed.

Patrick picked up his goblet. “So, what’s her name? If it’s not Cyn, I mean,” he said before taking a swig and setting it back down.

Marie looked up with her eyes wide in fear and hostility. Brows furrowed, she held the child close. “What’s it to you?”

Patrick sat up, concerned. “Curiosity. I mean, I’m guessing that’s your little sister? You seem to care for her very much and I gather that you’ll make sure the baby will stay with you no matter what. That most likely means that you’ve gone through a troubling ordeal together or are siblings, possibly both.”

Ravenclaws certainly are clever. Marie gawked at Patrick. She shook her head in disbelief before speaking again.

“No wonder you’re a Ravenclaw….” She said in astonishment. The boy in question laughed at this. And…… were those dimples? Better not to ponder on it. Patrick is either an honest and goodhearted boy, or really good at being a fraud. Marie sighed. “Her name is Cynthia. Cynthia Flint.”

“Well, it’s good to meet you both, Flint sisters!” Patrick grinned ear to ear, raising his goblet in toast, he gulped down the rest of the contents. Finished, Patrick wiped his mouth. “One favor though?”

Marie straightened, breath hitched. This is when he’s going to start? He’s going to tarnish and shred my respect, dignity, and everything I love minutes after we meet?

That’s sooner than I expected……..

“Please don’t call me ‘Pat’ or ‘Patty’?” Patrick Jameson rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. “My Pa used to call me that, but, well….. I guess I just save it for him!”

Even though he looked as if he smiled jubilant, Marie saw grief in Patrick’s caramel eyes. It was strange. From the near hour she’s met him, the caramel only held excitement and happiness. For them to hold the look of sorrow and loss…. Marie knew better than to ask. She did want some mysteries solved, but that one will wait for later. If her new… f…. frrrrr…. friend respects her boundaries, she shall respect his. It’s doubtful they will get as far as knowing each other’s backgrounds, but whatever.