Freddie Mercury - Ravenclaw (Mudblood)

Brian “Bri-Bri” May - Ravenclaw (Pureblood)

John “Deaky” Deacon - Hufflepuff (Mudblood)

Roger “Roggie” Taylor - Slytherin (Pureblood)

Chapter One:

The clock had just struck 10:00.

Freddie sat neatly with his knees clutched to his chest. He had pulled his scarf to his mouth, and was now regretting his decision wholeheartedly. Now he was breathing in musky air, and could feel that his oxygen was depleting. These scarves did not allow much ability to breathe, and since he did not want to breathe in the Slytherin’s cigarette smoke, this was pretty much the only option.

Slytherins, in Freddie’s book, were not very good people.

In his past four years as a Hogwarts student, he was teased, bullied, and belittled for his “ginormous hamster teeth,” as the Slytherins so eloquently called them. While there was an exception or two--Freddie, being very friendly and kind, though relatively quiet, made friends at a swift pace if in the right mindset--, they still weren't the most pleasant of people to talk to, more or less even be around. He liked other Ravenclaws, who shared his intelligence levels, or Gryffindors, who could share stories about their braveness. Hufflepuffs weren't too bad, either, but sometimes they could get on Freddie’s nerves since they didn't seem to be as articulate as those in his own house. But, they did not make bad friends.

And then those wretched Slytherins materialized before his eyes. Maybe they had been there a while, and Freddie had not been paying attention, for his oxygen-deprived thoughts were taking him away from reality.

“Hello, Hamster Boy!” A boy who probably was named James said, since Freddie hated the name James. James, as he will now be called, was the head leader of the Slytherin pack since 2nd year. He was a tall boy, about a head or two taller than Freddie, with a meaty figure and a bowl haircut. James looked like an obese chipmunk, but apparently looking like a woodland creature was better than looking like a hamster.

Freddie looked up, gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Hello. . .? Do I know you?” He asked, feigning as much innocence as he could muster in the moment.

James furrowed his thick, bushy brow.

“Of course you do! Remember last year? The Butterbeer incident?”

Freddie gulped loudly. Back in fourth year, he had been innocently hanging out at The Three Broomsticks Inn, sipping a Butterbeer and nonchalantly standing against a wall near the front of the establishment. James had passed by with all the grace of an awkward and ungainly fawn, harshly bumping into Freddie with his bulky arm. The Butterbeer proceeded to spill out, amber droplets splashing across Freddie and James.

James did not take this lightly.

He decided to take a young girl’s Butterbeer right out of her hand--Which made her considerably upset, seeing as she paid for that drink--and came back, splashing it onto Freddie’s face.

While the Ravenclaw student didn’t physically look upset, he did run out and lock himself in the bathrooms of the dorm while he sobbed and washed up. That was where his disdain towards Slytherins came from, and it had not changed even slightly over the summer.

James, after watching Freddie stare at him with a concerned gaze, took the Ravenclaw by his wrist and tugged him upwards roughly. Would anyone notice that he was getting assaulted in a public train station? Or did they just want to rush into a brick wall and spontaneously end up on the other side with a train awaiting to take them to a magical wizard school? Freddie just assumed that no one had noticed yet.

“I hope you don’t mind us going through your luggage,” James sneered, leaning in closer to the now-standing Freddie.

The Ravenclaw boy refused to cry or show weakness, even though he felt like he would just break down into upset tears. He stood tall as he could, and watched out of his peripheral as two more Slytherin boys sorted through his assorted clothing, and other essential items.

Soon, they came across a plushie cat, with fish eyes and an exaggerated smile. James stared back at the discovery, his mouth agape as if too shocked to actually form real words and sentences. A bellowing and terrifying laugh erupted from James’s throat.

“Seriously, a stuffed toy?! What are you, fucking eight?!”

Freddie proceeded to frown, and feel his eyes sting with tears.

“Oh my God, that is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen,” James jeered, laughing in such a manner that each cackle of insult jabbed a bit deeper into him.

All the different insults, the name-calling, all of it, it never bothered him this much.

“My sister gave me that. . .” He added in softly as he watched the other two Slytherin boys rush off towards the train tracks.

Freddie’s heart rose up into his throat as one boy with a Slytherin scarf tied into his belt loop tossed the plush cat to his friend. The golden-furred kitty sailed between the two boys, until the other just chucked it onto the train tracks. One tear had now broken free and rushed down his cheek as he watched the plushie disappear behind the cement platform.

The two boys walked away, obviously proud of themselves.

While Freddie was released by James with a snarky “Have fun attempting suicide to get that back,” a curly-haired Ravenclaw jumped out of nowhere (Probably from behind a pillar). His name was Brian, the other Ravenclaw who talked to him last year and complimented his ebony eyes--Freddie may or may not have taken that the wrong way--.

However, Brian did not seem like a daredevil type, at least not enough to jump down into dangerous terrain, and even less so when an oncoming train would likely end your life.

“BRIAN, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Freddie raced over to the edge of the platform, dropping to his hands and knees, and looked down, eyes wide and mouth open.

The fellow Ravenclaw stood up after he had successfully retrieved the plush cat. He hopped back up onto the platform as a speeding train passed by. Freddie gazed up at Brian, still unable to process what had just happened.

“. . .you’re welcome?” Brian awkwardly responded to his silence, kneeling down on the platform beside Freddie and handing him the plushie.

Freddie smiled widely, teeth showing and all.

“Thank you,” he hugged Brian tightly, crushing the plushie in between them.

---

Roger stood against a pillar a few feet away from the maniac Ravenclaws, holding his wand to his side as he turned away to gaze back at the clock. It was now 10:25.

Despite it being against the rules, he subtly raised his wand, and aimed it at the clock. He smirked slightly, only one corner of his mouth curling. Roger, the little bastard he was, swirled his wand in a circular motion, making the clock move forward only a few minutes at first. Afterwards, he moved it forward twenty minutes. Feeling confident in himself, he moved it forward one more minute, before shoving his wand back into his pocket and resting his hand back on the pillar.

Roger waited, only a few more minutes and some moron would run up into the wall, thinking it was eleven. While he whistled, he noticed a young brunette boy walking up towards Platform 9 ¾. He smiled assuredly as the clock struck eleven.

The boy raced up to the wall, scrunching his eyes shut as he crashed into the wall with a decidedly loud clatter. He flew back, landing against the ground about a foot away. His cart collapsed to the side, and a small owl sat on his side, most likely phased or too stubborn to get up himself.

The blond Slytherin realized that his “practical joke” wasn’t funny anymore and dashed up to the boy who had fallen. He kneeled down, and pushed the boy’s astray hair out of his face. There was a light bruise forming on his forehead, but nothing that was serious.

Roger glanced over at the owl, still sitting stubbornly on his side. He imagined the owl with a pissed-off expression on his face, frown and all. Afterwards, he turned his attention back to the fallen boy.

“Are you okay?” He asked, surprised that the sympathy in his voice wasn’t fake.

The boy opened his eyes after a few moments, gradually as he glanced up at the Slytherin.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I’m okay. . .” He murmured, making eye contact with Roger.

The blond smiled, and sat up on his knees as he helped the brunette sit up.

“Sorry, I was setting the clock forward as a prank for Hufflepu-” It was at that moment Roger noticed the black and yellow scarf coiled around the boy’s neck. Roger was not a very observant person, unfortunately. “I meant. . .”

The boy shrugged.

Roger did not know how to respond to that, so he looked at the owl.

It now was flailing like a fish out of water, and seemed to be quite pissed off now.

“Is. . .is your owl okay?”

The Hufflepuff waved his hand.

“He’ll be fine. He’s just very, very stubborn.” He smiled.

That owl needs Life Alert, Roger thought.

The owl did not cease it’s flailing until it’s master picked it up. Quietly, the Hufflepuff boy picked up the cart, and began re-positioning his luggage on top of it.

Roger walked up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Need some help?”

The boy simply smiled, and nodded quickly.

After a few moments of awkward silence, it was the Hufflepuff who spoke up.

“So what’s your name?” He asked, glancing at Roger with his green-grey eyes, brown bangs wisping into his eyes.

The Slytherin smiled warmly--Weird for someone of his house--, and responded as vaguely as he could.

“I’m Roger. I’m a Slytherin.”

The Hufflepuff backed up a bit.

“. . .you’re a Slytherin?!” He questioned, still sounding as quiet as a mouse.

Roger grinned, and he patted his luggage. “My tie is in here.”

Still, the brunette was silent.

And still, the owl looked quite discontented.

Roger made eye contact with the owl.

“Are you doing okay?”

The owl squalled and ruffled his feathers.

Roger instantly regretted speaking to the owl.

He then turned back to the other boy.

“Well. . .is there a problem with me being a Slytherin?”

The Hufflepuff glanced between his feet and Roger.

“Um. . .possibly.”

“What’s wrong with it?!” Roger demanded, clenched his jaw slightly.

This other boy did not respond. At least, not immediately.

“Well. . .y’know, Slytherins are like. . .the bad guys at Hogwarts. Sorry if I offended you, but everyone thinks you guys are mean. And, I’ve never seen one of you guys in real life, but I am not sure if you’re, like. . .”

“If we’re not like real people, too?!” Roger leaned forward, making the other boy uncomfortable. His eyes were narrowed, and his teeth bared.

The boy’s hands shot up to his sides.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all!”

Roger leaned back a bit, his eyebrows rising back to their natural position.

“Then what did you mean?”

The other boy stepped back a bit, and looked as if he were about to run off or start sobbing.

“I don’t know. You guys just have a terrible reputation.”

Roger scoffed slightly, and rolled his eyes.

The boy glanced towards the cart, then the puffed-up owl on his shoulder.

“So. . .what’s your name, Hufflepuff?”

“It’s not Hufflepuff!” He said, making Roger feel a bit bad. “If you’d really like to know, it’s John. But my family calls me Deaky.”

Roger chuckled a bit at the name. But, hey, he was called “Roggie” by some, so he had no right to judge.

“Wouldn’t it be that your friends call you Deaky?” He asked, grinning.

John shrugged.

“I don’t have friends.”

Roger was taken aback. No friends? WHAT KIND OF PERSON WAS THIS?!

“You. . .don’t. . .have. . .friends?”

It was John’s turn to roll his eyes. “Haha, hilarious Roger.”

Roger cocked an eyebrow. “Hilarious? You don’t have friends, how is that even slightly hilarious?!”

John shrugged. Again.

“I honestly just don’t really share many interests with anyone.”

Roger’s eyes widened.

“WHAT?!”

“Ssssshhh! You’ll get everyone’s attention!” John glared slightly.

Roger rested his hands on John’s shoulders, somewhat disturbed-looking.

“How. . .how does someone not have friends. . .?”

John just rolled his eyes once more, and turned back to putting his luggage back on the cart.

“DEAKY, I’LL BE YOUR FRIEND.” Roger declared, draping himself over John’s shoulders.

“GET. OFF. ME.”

The Slytherin was shocked that he could even speak that loudly.

“BUT YOU DON’T HAVE FRIENDS!”

“AND THAT’S HOW I LIKE IT!”

“HOOT.”

They both looked at the owl that had interrupted their conversation.

“Really. . .?”

“Pidgey, why?”

“Pidgey?”

“HOOT.”

Roger glared at the owl.

“Well, okay then.”

---

FINALLY. IT WAS ELEVEN.

The clocks were reset after a dumb Slytherin had set them forward, and now it was time to run through brick walls.

Freddie grinned as he tightened his grip on the cart’s handle, and glanced over at Brian. He looked more calm than he should have. Brian must have been planning something. But he wasn’t, he just gets that look sometimes.

“What was he planning?” the narrators thought.

Anyways, Freddie was being way too confident in himself, but considering him, it’s kinda normal. He closed his eyes, and proudly marched through the wall, and did so very successfully.

Brian was next, and he raced through, expecting to slam face-first into the wall, but thankfully he didn’t--He needs that face to get the girls (And guys *Wink*)--.

Then Roger fucking slammed through like the Hulk, then, unlike everyone else who was saying goodbye to family, picked a seat in the back, and sat down triumphantly.

And John body-slammed with the cart, and he got through no problem. But Pidgey was still not amused. Pidgey wanted his fucking cookies, also known as owl treats.

John was the second to sit in the back, and he was quite displeased when he found Roger stashing chocolate frogs in his shirt that he had stolen from the candy cart. The only reason John was upset was that he wasn’t offered one.

Next, Freddie tore through with his luggage, and flopped down into the back.

“Dear god, I escaped.”

Roger just sat there, looking like a pregnant woman with all the chocolate frogs in his shirt.

And John nibbled on a cookie, breaking off one piece for Pidgey.

After a few moments, a shocked-looking Brian entered the compartment, chocolate frogs had been chucked into his hair. Roger felt tempted to add to that number. His wand was also tangled into his mane, and he looked as if he was about to pass out. Freddie just sat there, confused. And John didn’t care at all. He just continued eating cookies with Pidgey, while gazing at Roger.

“Okay, darling, what the hell happened?” Freddie asked, leaning forward in his seat.