“Tomie's, still doesn't have a name though.â€â€œHmm,†he replied thoughtfully, returning Tomie’s half-handshake as best he could figure and then fist-bumping JR who appeared almost instantly thereafter. His eyes widened a little as the kitten’s story unfolded: how’d he or she (Benny had said one, Tomie the other) end up in the
attic in the first place, anyways? He kept his questions to himself, though, in favor of listening to the banter among the rest of them.
Bren nodded in acknowledgement of Tomie’s warning, but he sat down on the floor of the compartment and cautiously extended a hand for the tiny feline to sniff anyways. The kitten – a ‘he’, apparently – slowly extended a paw, batting at Bren’s knuckles (but thankfully keeping his needle-sharp claws retracted, at least for the moment). The interest was short-lived, however, and after about ten seconds the kitten decided he had better things to do and clambered into Tomie’s lap.
Seeing as all the actual seats were taken Bren stayed sitting on the floor, scooting back against one of the shared armrests and drawing his knees up to his chest. He was a bit indifferent as to the proffered name choices, and so he said nothing; it wasn’t his kitten, anyways. He did, however, accept a few Bertie Bott’s from Tomie – he watched everyone’s reactions for a moment before taking the tiniest nibble of one of his own green ones and wrinkling his nose (“Urgh, grass!â€).
“So… Quidditch try-outs?â€Bren glanced over at Benny, who’d said it, and then around the compartment. He didn’t even have to look at JR; there was no way his Housemate
wasn’t going out for the team, considering his family’s industry. Shelby was encouraging as ever, of course, and he gave her a small smile. He hadn’t decided on whether or not he was going to try-out, and so he let the Gryffindors and JR carry the conversation until it inevitably segued into something else.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Throughout the day, Bren drifted back and forth between the compartment where they’d all congregated and the one in which he’d left his stuff. As night fell in earnest, he changed into his robes and squeezed into the crowded compartment for the remainder of the ride.
When the train finally slowed to a stop, the Second Year made his way back to the compartment with his trunk one more time to retrieve it, then filed out and onto the platform behind his friends – less nervous than he’d been the year before, but just as excited.
[[ out! ]]