First Morning - Breakfast

Rachel was down to breakfast about an hour or so early. She hadn't realized that school started at nine, so she was there extra early, and there was only a couple of people mingling around. With a shrug, she sat down and began to serve herself food. At least she got all the good food before everyone else did.

[individual intros f u c k yeah]

Also arriving in that early hour was a boy of medium stature, hair the color of soot, eyes matching the forest green of his tie and the tapestries above his table. The boy was, at the time Rachel entered, enthralled by some paperback tale of a future in which those as he was currently skimming were outlawed entirely and burned. There is a high enough percentage of those in the world who would object to such a widespread resolution, he thought, so this, without a doubt, wouldn't happen.

Rachel looked up at the boy, and looked at the book he was reading curiously. Fahrenheit 451.

"Boy!" she snapped at him. "How is that book you're reading?"

Serenity Rosensteel came down just five short minutes after Rachel- she couldn't stand sleeping in when there were people to see and things to do- with her hair all in pigtail-y joy, and her smile wider than ever. She looked around, and then, just like that, she saw him. Just like he was some sort of celebrity, she squealed and promptly felt an urge to go to the bathroom. She saw that other girl talking to him, and took that as an invitation, going up next to her and staring, wide-eyed, at her friend's older brother. Serenity was trying her very best to keep from drooling.

"Fair enough!" he answered, not taking his eyes off the yellow-tinged page. "A rather small typeset!"

"Hi!" Serenity got in excitedly. "How are you this morning?"

Rachel just shrugged, and continued eating. She had grown used to people ignoring her demands, so she thought nothing of it.

For a moment, Angel Astor said nothing. Right, that Rosensteel girl was the same age as his kid sister. She was beginning her first year as well.
Damn. "Hungry."

[

Serenity sighed in a oh-gosh-he's-dreamy way, then went over to the closest other person in the Great Hall. "Hullo! My name's Serenity." She exclaimed, still a bit dazed.

Kelsi skipped down in her full uniform. She looked around happily and proudly. She was going to make friends. That was for sure. So she went over to the pretty blond girl from last night and this other girl who looked unimpressed, and butted right in. "WELL HELLO!" she yelled into the conversation.

"HELLO!" Serenity screamed back, at about the same decibel. "I'M SERENITY ROSENSTEEL. YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE, AREN'T YOU? What's your name?"

"You're really pretty," Kelsi stated. "I'm Kalyanni Cruise, at your service!" she bowed down and snapped right back up. Her long extremely messy hair fell around her face as she looked up at Serenity grinning widely. "Call me Kelsi, though, or else I'll have to cut off all your beautiful hair."

"Thank you! Uh, Kelsi. Got it. Don't cut my hair." Serenity grinned. "Aren't you just SO happy to be here?! I am! This is great! We're in a castle! Like princesses!"

Thank the powers that be; that conversation had ended as quickly as it had begun. The boy returned to the solace of the fantasy printed on those ivory pages, wishing that Montag would just eliminate that arduous squaw of a wife and continue his rebellion in peace.

Not too long after, in skipped young Mélenie - bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to start her first day of school. She payed no heed to the other girls scrabbling over one another and instead headed straight for the tin god she considered her brother to be. "Gooood morning!" she chirped.

Angel Astor knew the way to get rid of the girl was to simply ignore her, and that's just what he did. She continued her cheery assault on the boy until she jumped to the conclusion that he no longer loved or needed her, and sulked off to another section of the table in rebellion.

"You're stupid! We're witches, not princesses!" Kelsi giggled.

"Well, princesses live in castles, and we're in a castle.. Okay, whatever. Do you see that adorable guy with his nose in the book? That's the love of my life." Serenity said, swooning. "I'm going to marry him once I'm 17, and we'll have eight children and live in a mansion."

Kelsi wrinkled her nose. "Boys are gross," she said, then shook her head. "And why do you like HIM? His hair is oily and he looks boring!"

"HE'S THE BEST!" Serenity squealed. "He's just like a knight in shining armor. With a cello. And a brain. Isn't he the dreamiest? I think I'm in love with him."

A young twelve-year-old boy entered the hall. His bored-looking pale silver eyes reflected slight purplish rays as he made his way to the Slytherin table. He looked unimpressed, and once he sat down, he routinely took a piece of toast and put some jam on it. That's what he did every single day in his first year. It didn't even cross him to go for the basket full of delicious fresh fruit, or the scrambled eggs bowl that looked lightly seasoned with seasonal herbs, or even the perfectly grilled hash browns that still had smoke drifting from them.

His short dark buzzcut looked new, as though he had had it done one or two days ago. He was all set in his school uniform, which looked crisply ironed and his tie was falling neatly down his front. He wore his robes that morning, and the sleeves were folded once back revealing his young hands that hadn't yet grown into big manly hands yet.

When he had sat down, it was beside a cute little girl (AKA Mélenie). He turned to her. "May you please pass the strawberry jam," he said in a non-puberfied voice as he nodded awkwardly to her, his Italian nose pointed at her.

Mél was momentarily snapped out of her completely unnecessary doldrums. She looked over the table, picked up one of three, small bowls of red jam (this one happened to be raspberry) and handed it to the other student. And as he was a fellow human and it was likely he understood English, she decided to tell him of her plight: "My brother hates me!"

"Thank you," said the student. "Why do you say that?" He had an English accent for sure, but his r's seemed to roll. Almost a bit Italian. "A brother can't hate his family,"

"Can so! You can hate anyone you want. And he hates me!" she cried, eyes welling up. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Hate's a pretty strong word. And if you overreact like that, it's no wonder."

Mél looked up, scowling. "What's that supposed to mean!?" One of her pigtails had begun to slip.

He looked taken aback. "I didn't mean it that way, I'm terribly sorry. But let your brother be, clearly he isn't in the mood for talking."