It was my second year at whatever school this was now. I was ready and waiting at the train station, with my packaged briefcases, suitcases, chinchilla and cello. I may not have been a star student in my last year at school. I may not have even been registered as a student. I don’t really keep track of these things. I could see the other students waiting for the train like I was, they fumbled and bumbled around like a potato crop growing on a steep hill. I looked to see if I could see any familiar faces, unfortunately I could. Unfortunately, it was Gristle’s face, my chinchilla. His whiskers brushed against my face and his expression said: I own you slave. I turned my head away from his, wishing I had the head like one of the other students' owls, so I could forever be safe from his evil gaze. 

Then the metal box arrived to transport us to a secondary location, that we were all hoping was the school. I boarded the shiny box, ready for mischief as usual. Indifferent faces passed me by, students talking to each other as if they remembered who they were, complementing each other’s outfits, giving sweet eyes to assumedly sweet people, not even stopping to wonder if said people were obviously hiding a cello in their oversized briefcase. Imbeciles, I thought to myself. Absolute imbeciles.

This was the year I was going to be mean.

(But it wasn’t actually, because I am not that determined and gave up trying halfway through the train ride). 

I was sitting, alone but not lonely in a cabin of my own on the train, feeling as if I were a stray calico cat and this cabin were my slightly bruised cardboard box on main street, when I saw someone I recognized from last year, a friendly, sweaty face. 

“Why so sweaty?” I asked her- I hope it was a her, in truth I always identified her more as a ‘thing’ in my mind, neither human nor beast, just living.

“Winn! What a scrumptious surprise to see you here at an old rundown place like this, how are you my favorite chicken strip?”

I smiled, “Just enjoying the view from my pathetic cardboard box, care to join me old friend?” I asked. 

She didn’t need any more convincing, nor did she need any basic living supplies apparently, for she had no bag, nor anything in which to hold belongings. I trusted she would be ok though, she always was. 

“Do you think we’ll be in the same theme room this year?” she asked, running a hand through her thick scraggly, impossibly long hair. 

“I don’t know, nor care.” I confessed, fighting to keep Gristle from eating my right earlobe. 

“We were in Crowsmack last year I think. I might like to be in the one with the skunk this year, what’s it called Stinkypuff? Yeah I just think I would fit right in.”

She may not have been right about the house names, but she was right about being stinky, she truly smelled like she had crawled out of a garbage can that smelled suspiciously like tuna and spicy chinese food two days old. 

“Would you like to try some of this new possum jerky I found?” she asked, waving a piece of something that had once been alive in front of my face, “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get a piece of this fellow. Let me tell you.”

She was about to tell me the story, no doubt in unnecessary elaborate detail, but then the plump puff of gray that is Gristle, stretched out his grumpy face (I never knew he had a neck till this day) and grabbed the piece of jerky from her fingers. 

She only laughed though, “That furry fellow’s got some good taste, what’s his name?”

I had only become acquainted with Gristle a few months back, so Chewy hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. If it were anyone else sitting beside me, I might be afraid I would endanger them by letting them co-exist in the same room as the deadly little guy, but I knew Chewy could hold her own. 

“His name is Gristle, he’s only a young chinchilla”

“Oh I get it, you named him that because he is gray, like gris!” she said, giving her knee a familiar slap, that warmed my soul.

“No, I actually named him that because he was the only survivor in an attack in the wild by predators. Can’t believe the lucky guy survived.” I said, affectionately feeding him from my rations.

“He seems like a funky lil dude, I like him” She said, raising an eyebrow. 

I smiled again, “I think he likes you too, since he’s tolerating you.”

“What a guy!” she exclaimed. Chewy really didn’t ask for much in this world. All she wanted was to be the embodiment of chaos without any repercussions.

“Maybe he can smell our friendship, maybe that’s why” I suggested, watching Gristle scarf down a piece of potato chip like he was a snake with a mouse. 

“If that’s the case, I think our friendship smells like tuna and sweat. I don’t mind though” She said, sighing, “I could be content with that.”

“I am not sure I could. It kinda stinks like nobody’s business.”

“That just means we’re close”

“Too close”

After a train ride montage that no one bothered to make, we arrived at the foreboding towers that was the school of witchcraft and wizardry. The only thing between us and our unpredictable future now, was a great lake, deep and dark, which I thought would be enough to prevent us going to school, but apparently not. One of the teachers saddled us in the canoe of death and we began our journey to the castle school. I looked into the black waters, to see if I could see the faces of those who had never made it to the school, but there was only the pitch blackness. And perhaps the glistening face of a slippery, pale and toothy sea monster, but I couldn’t be sure. Must have been the wind or something.

I was one of the last students to be transported in this somewhat hazardous way, they had probably done it intentionally, knowing what a danger I was to the school. Truth be told, it wasn’t really me who was dangerous, it was Chewy, I was just her nearly enslaved lackey who followed her every whim at the expense of my education because it was more entertaining than the rigid structure for life designed by the people who told us how to live whilst kidnapping our creativity and ability to think critically and stealing the innocence of our children. 

There was hardly any villainy in that, if you don’t count the time we almost blew up the potions class, or the time we crashed out of the building on a wild, flying burger, or the time we almost lost one of the school griffins being buffoons.

We were almost to the castle now. It was taller up close I realized startlingly. 

“Sorry I couldn’t stop and explain, we are running behind on schedule. But I’m sure you all remember me from last year, Charles Weasley, professor of the arts of caring for magical creatures?”

Everyone replied in unison, “yes” but I did not. I couldn’t remember this guy for the life of me. He seemed to remember me though, and his memories didn’t look pleasant, because his expression wasn’t when he looked at me.

“We will all be heading into the dining hall for the first year’s orientation, in which the housing process will take place. After we have finished dinner and the housing process is done you will be sent back to your dorms to unpack and settle down while the first years are given a tour of the school. I hope you all are excited for another year at Hogwarts school, because we are sure this year is going to be one of the best years for you all!”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by “we” and I found it slightly ominous, but I said nothing. 

The dining hall was just like I remembered it, but a bit emptier, it was long and wide with chairs and tables. My favorite crew, the old people club, were sitting where they usually sat at the cool kids table, AKA the table at the very back of the room. I had been invited to join them last year, and I thought I had truly piqued in life, but then they sent me away to the bird house. I could only hope I had better luck this year. The old people were the jazziest people in the school, and I craved to be a part of their popular crowd, sitting down in the oldest, mustiest chairs.

I decided to sit as close as I could to the old people club this time, which wasn’t very close, in the hopes that they would notice me. 

“Are you a first year too?” a girl’s voice asked me. I presume it was the girl sitting next to me because her lips were moving.

“It depends on what a first year is I guess” I said, puzzled at her question. She didn’t know how to respond, so I continued,

“Are you a first year?” Yes, this was how you made conversation, so normal.

She blushed, “Yeah, I only got my letter in the mail a few weeks ago, I was so surprised, I came from a muggle family, so everything is pretty new to me”

I wasn’t sure what a muggle was, I felt as if i had heard that phrase before but couldn’t remember, maybe it was a type of sandwich, there was only one way to find out, more questions.

“What kind of muggle?”

“Umm, the normal kind I guess?” she answered with uncertainty.

“White or brown?”

She hesitated before answering, “...white? Why are you asking me this?”

“That’s good, white is tastier, even if brown is healthier, can’t be helped. Sounds like you come from a weird family though. It must be hard coming from a dysfunctional family”

She looked shocked for some reason, perhaps Gristle was giving her the stink eye, he had a tendency to do that to people if exposed to them for too long.

“Don’t be afraid of Gristle here” I said pointing to him, “We made an agreement that he wouldn’t kill anybody, and so far I trust him”

“I think I am going to sit somewhere else, sorry” she said, quickly but quietly leaving her seat. 

I turned to look at Gristle- he had been giving her the stink eye! I shook my head, we really needed to talk about that. It was scaring off potential friends. 

I looked around for Chewy, but couldn’t spot her matt of hair anywhere. Then a boy dressed in robes lined with green sat beside me.

“Howdy” he said, in what I presumed to be a friendly manner.

I tipped an invisible cowboy hat in response which made him smile. 

“So you’re from the wild west too huh?” he asked.

“Nah. I just know my manners s’all” 

“Anywho, want to be friends? The names, Bond, Bond James by the way.” I couldn’t tell if he were joking, so I took him seriously, he seemed to appreciate it either way. 

“Sure. But I can’t speak for Gristle here, the guy’s got a tickle in his hair trigger, if ya know what I mean”

“Sure do. I won’t bother him if he won’t bother me. How ‘bout that?”

“Sounds good Bond, sounds good. You can sit with me if you don’t get in Gristle’s way.”

He smiled, he really seemed to like smiling, and sat down. I was glad to have some company, but his 40 gallon hat was kind of breaching my personal space bubble, luckily Gristle was on my other shoulder. 

Now the younger students were flooding in from the open doors at the start of the room, they rushed in like wet macaroni noodles when you pour them into the strainer- helpless and lost. 

“If you aren’t from the wild west, where are you from?” Bond asked, tipping his giant hat politely.

“Someplace rainy but also sunny”

“Sounds like a nice place I reckon good for you! I come from America, the country of freedom!”

“Me too, possibly?” I responded, I didn’t really know where I was from- they didn’t exactly teach us such things in wizard school. I did know how to turn my friends into tacos though. They didn’t teach me the skills I wanted in this school, only the skills I needed.

Now that most of the students were here, the oldies were preparing themselves to give what I could only imagine was the most epic speech, that’s when I saw him. He wasn’t an oldie but he sat at the cool kids table anyways, perhaps because his face looked so tired from dealing with the shenanigans witnessed when you are the director of a wizarding school- it was Harry Potter.

I neither liked nor disliked Harry Potter. I envied his social status as he was accepted by the oldies, but I held him in some sort of disdain for how he had given us detention after we exploded the potions class. It had been an accident after all. 

Still, I admired his resilience as a headmaster, and his dedication to wear the same style of glasses his whole life. He truly had conquered any fear of commitment that might have troubled him, squashing it under his spectacles like a bug. 

The oldies did begin their speech, which focused on the magical hat of rooms which had the authority to dictate where you would live based on a few of your personality traits. I wasn't asked to join the oldies nor was I asked to put on the talking hat again, so I was sent to the bird house again with fellow students.

The bird house was actually quite beautiful in reality, its ceilings held galactic wonders, blue and white sprayed like confetti in the moving picture of the universe. The main room was like a library, the enchanting smell of old and moldy parchment  wafting in the air, sweeter than baked bread. There were a few couches, quite neglected by the avians of this house who usually preferred to perch on some strange and narrow surface than sit like normal people.

I headed up to the dormitories, hoping to claim a bed by my friend as I had last year. 

But when I got to the dorms, she had already begun to reign in her chaos, fearless and bold. Somehow, it seemed, she had convinced the other students to make a gigantic blanket fort instead of unpacking like civilized students. 

The responsible side of me told me I should go find a bed, and do as I had been told-but the blood-hungry chinchilla on my shoulder said I should join in the fun. Pretty soon I was heaving my cozy green comforter in the air, trying to balance it on other blankets which were held up by a random assortment of things. 

“I always knew I’d need this long wizard staff for something!” an older kid piped up, proud to contribute to the disaster that my friend had created.

“Won’t the teachers get mad?” a younger, shorter girl asked, her  voice shaking with worry.

“Nah, they never come up to the dorms; I’m not sure why” Another older kid responded. 

Soon the blanket fort was finished being crafted, it was either a work of modern art, or a premonition of impending doom. I couldn’t decide. 

That night everyone slept in the massive blanket fort, beds scattered around the inside of the fort like debris floating in the ocean after a shipwreck. We were like, unlucky survivors trying to survive in the aftermath of horrible destruction, living off of some students crackers and anothers nasty twizzlers, truly, starved. We waited til the dawn greet like us like a long lost friend, cherishing the warm glow of sunlight that now seemed so foreign to us, remembering who we were before the accident, holding close our loved ones, closer than before- or at least Jan and max were holding each other close, caught up in that gross intoxicating web that is loveless intoxication. 

That was the first night of my second year, but turns out, there was a lot more to come. Because time happens all the time.