“Does the Sorting Hat really bite your ears off if you answer your question wrong? Do we really have to go through whitewater rapids to get to the castle? I heard there’s a dragon guarding the quidditch pitch, is that true? Do trolls really live in the dungeon? Are all Slytherins related? IS IT TRUE THAT THE GREAT HALL SHOWS THE NIGHT SKY----”

Andre slammed both of his hands down on his brother’s jittery, jumping shoulders, pushing him down hard into the seat. Ethan wiggled furiously under his hold, unable to keep still. He was just so excited!

“Only one of those things is true,” Andre said with a sigh, lifting his hands for a moment, but when Ethan bounced back up he pressed down again, “You need to sit!”

“SO THERE REALLY IS A DRAGON?” Ethan squeaked, hands going up in triumph. "YES!"

“No! There’s---there’s no dragon,” the seventh year groaned, giving up on keeping his little brother down. Andre dropped back onto the seat across from Ethan in the small compartment, shaking his head as the soon-to-be first year clambered up the side of the wall to grab hold of his trunk, “Ethan! Don’t open your trunk!”

“But I want to make sure all my stuff’s there!” he grunted, pulling on the handle.

“You already did!” Andre said loudly, jumping up once again. His arms went swiftly around his little brother’s waist and pulled him away from the trunk, avoiding tiny flailing fists, but unable to miss a swift kick to the shin, “ETHAN!”

Tossing the first year onto the bench, Andre made no qualms about promptly sitting upon him, like he often had to do at home to keep Ethan at bay. The little brother squirmed, and Andre let out a breath of frustration. Hogwarts had been his escape from the madness that was Ethan, and now he was expected to make sure that his brother didn’t get himself killed because he couldn’t focus on a single thing for more than five minutes. He had things to do, like pass his N.E.W.T.s! Andre wasn’t concerned that he wouldn’t achieve the grades needed to enter the healer program, but a Ravenclaw never wasted study time unless absolutely necessary. Watching his baby brother did not fall into that category.

“Get off get off get off!” Ethan shrieked, causing Andre to clamp his hand over the boy’s mouth. That’s all he needed, someone thinking he was killing an annoying first year. Of course, this method of silence was only effective for a few seconds, as a moment later Ethan quite thoroughly licked Andre’s palm. The older brother jumped up with a yelp, shaking his hand free of the slobber.

“THAT’S IT!” Andre shouted, slamming the compartment door shut. “SIT UP! STRAIGHT!”

Ethan jolted upright, pressing against the back of the seat so that his feet dangled high off the ground. Andre pointed a stiff finger at his brother, wagging it like he’d so often seen his father do.

“You need to sit still!” Andre scolded. “If you don’t sit still, they’re going to send you home!”

He watched Ethan’s eyes widen to the size of quaffles. Maybe, finally, his brother would understand that he was being ridiculous with all this bouncing around. Andre had never been like this! His parents could walk Andre through the brightest, most colorful toy store and he wouldn’t say a word, not even bat an eye. Ethan? Ethan would have knocked down all the shelving and somehow managed to set fire to the store with recklessness.

The terror injected into the first year stayed evident on Ethan’s face for another moment, but then complete despair seemed to overcome him and he burst into tears, hands quick to cover his face.

Standing at full height, Andre realized how tiny his brother really was. Shouting at Ethan wasn’t going to solve anything, and he bit back a groan. Andre sat down beside Ethan and tugged at his wrists.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, managing to pull his brother’s fists down to his lap. Ethan stared at him, looking miserable.

“I can’t sit still,” he cried, his shoulders shaking with a new batch of tears. “I try, but I can’t!”

“Sure you can!” Andre lied, “You---er-----oh! How about when your wireless show’s on? About those guys who chase the dragons?”

“Beast Hunters, it’s not only dragons,” Ethan sniffled. Andre refrained from rolling his eyes and took a breath.

“Why do you stay still during Beast Hunters?”

“Because---because I like it, I want to hear what happens!”

“Right!” Andre said, “So---so when you get to Hogwarts, you’ve got to pay attention like that, okay? There’s tons of cool stuff to learn, and if you’re in Ravenclaw...” Andre pressed his lips together, unsure if he wanted to finish the thought. He had been silently hoping that his brother would be sent to another House so that he wouldn’t be forced to watch him constantly. Ethan stared back, looking scared, worried, and maybe a bit hopeful. “If you’re in Ravenclaw, then we can study together okay? And you can tell me all about what you’ve learned.”

“Like when I learn how to ride a broom?” Ethan squeaked. Andre nodded. “Or when I can levitate a feather? Or turn a pin cushion into a porcupine? Or when I brew my first potion? Or when I...”

Andre nodded along, eyes drifting to the passing countryside. This last train ride was going to be the longest of his Hogwarts career.

"Mate, are you scared?"

"I'm not scared."

"Then why are you standing on top of your trunk?"

Ethan squirmed under Sam's gaze, but kept a stern expression. "Just get the damn thing, will you?"

Sam huffed loudly from his position on his knees before diving back under his bed. Ethan watched warily, not willing to get any closer to the situation as he was…fine right here. Perched high above the ground where Sam's blasted pet rat could not get him.

From the first day his roommate had brought the blasted thing, Ethan had set boundries. If it was in the dorm, it was in its cage. That was all he had requested! Keep the damn rat, the dirty, filthy rat, in its cage! Was that really so hard to ask?

Apparently so, as Sam had wandered about their bedroom a few minutes ago, asking loudly, "Has anyone seen The Duke?"

The Duke was a nickname for his rat, which he had officially dubbed Prince Ratcliff, Duke of Mouseville.

"I can't reach him!" Sam's muffled voice came from under the bed. Ethan threw a shoe at his friend's legs, urging him to hurry up.

"Summon the damn thing!" Ethan shouted. Sam pulled himself out from under the bed, bringing along with him a pair of hot pink knickers. The two boys stared at the knickers, then at each other, and at the same time, "Not mine!"

Sam unceremoniously tossed the knickers onto their other roommate's bed, which would've been hilarious if Prince Ratcliff, Duke of Mouseville, had not sped out from underneath the bed, between Sam's legs, and straight towards Ethan.

He'd rather not recall what transpired in the next few seconds, but Sam Davies does not have a problem retelling the tale of how the highest pitched scream from a bloke he'd ever heard had come out of Ethan's mouth. Ethan would also not like to note how he'd managed to clamber not only on top of his bed, but nearly up his four-poster as well.

"You're scared of a little rat!" Sam roared with laughter, clutching The Duke to his chest.

"Fuck you and fuck your bloody rat, Davies!" Ethan shouted, his voice an octave higher than he really wished it had been.