Hello y'all. This is an HP FF (for those doubters out there). It is my first, so please be kind

Chapter 1

The soft hum of the train tracks faded into the background as Sean Dempsey started reading his book. His nose was always buried in one book or another. Sean never had much time for people. In his experience, people were evil backstabbing wretches who only had their own interests in mind. He sat in the train car reading. As always. For seven years now he had sat in this spot this time of the year. Each year it was a different book, each year he was a year older. Now it was his last year of sitting in this train.
“Is this seat taken?”
Sean looked up at the speaker. It irked him slightly to be pulled out of the book. “No, I don’t believe so,” he said to the owner of the voice.
“Great,” the boy replied and sat down. He brushed a stray strand of blonde hair out of his eyes. “Name’s Jude, Michael Jude,” he offered proffering his hand.
Sean closed the book and set it in his lap before taking the hand. “Sean Dempsey,” he responded with a firm shake of Michael’s hand before letting it go. “That’s a fairly weak grip there Mike.”
Michael shrugged. “I didn’t expect a paddy to be so strong,” he retorted leaning back in his chair. “Whatcha reading?” he asked nodding towards the book.
Sean glared at Michael for a second then held the book out for him to examine. “It’s a book written by an American.”
“An American?” Michael inquired a bit surprised. He took the book and looked it over. The black leather bound book was fairly hefty.
“Yeah, an American ye bloody limey,” Sean responded taking the book back. “They’re not all illiterate gits.”
Michael chuckled at that one. “Are you so sure?” he asked lying down on the seat. “I mean, they are Americans after all. They are nothing but savages that worship violence.”
“They beat Britain,” he snorted placing his hands behind his head.
“Only because they’re savages and don’t fight the gentlemanly way.”
“Well that may be true but,”
“Is this seat taken?” a female voice interjected.
Michael removed his feet from the seat. “No, not at all.” He replied sitting up.
“Thank you,” the girl responded in a voice sweeter than honey.
“No problem,” Michael replied. Sean noticed that his Irish companion was starting to sweat. But then again, who wouldn’t? The girl was beautiful, her light brown hair descended past her shoulders and just past her pale blue eyes that reminded Sean of a warm pool in which he once swam.
“My name’s Teàrlag Beckett,” the girl offered.
“Michael Jude,” the Brit returned proffering his hand. Teàrlag took his small bony hand in her own bony hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she countered being polite.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Michael panted. He hadn’t realized it but his breathing grew more labored.
“Oy limey,” Sean called out to the obviously infatuated Michael. “Keep your loins in your trousers.”
Michael blushed self-consciously. “I apologize for my boorish friend,” he said quickly to Teàrlag to try and cover up his embarrassment. That only made Sean snort and the Scott giggle all the louder.
“Its ok,” she replied sitting down as gracefully as she walked. “I am quite used to boors. I grew up with three brothers.”
Michael nodded knowingly. “Ah yes, I know of such horrors. I myself had two brothers. I bet our paddy friend here has dozens of siblings.”
Sean tossed Michael a quick obscene gesture and changed the topic. “So, what house is everyone in?” he asked not entirely curious. It was just another way to keep the conversation from getting any worse.
“I’m in Gryffindor,” Michael responded quickly. “Seventh year jes like yerself.”
Sean raised an eyebrow at his British companion. “Now aren’t ye the best behaved limey I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
Michael once again became embarrassed. “I am sorry, sometimes the accent slips through. I am from Cheshire,”
“Liverpool,” Sean cut in.
“How in the bloody hell do you know so much about me?” Michael raged at Sean.
“Well, for one, yer accent, when it slips in, is that of Liverpool. I also know that your family has no money and judging by the bloodstains on your sweater that was ripped off someone who does. Not that I am complaining. Whoever it was probably had it coming.”
Michael jumped to his feet and stared down at Sean. “That does it. Time for a good ol’ paddy whack,” he cried grabbing at Sean. The cunning Irishman though slid under Michael’s grasp and also went to his feet. As the Brit tried to grab at his wand, in one swift move Sean hit his opponent fast and hard in the face and Michael fell to the floor. Sitting back down, Sean finally remembered Teàrlag.
“So my dear,” he said crossing his legs. “What year are you?”
“I’m in my seventh as well,” she began before getting interrupted by the train whistle.
Sean grumbled and picked up Michael. “Help me get this limey into his robes will you?” he asked Teàrlag.
“What if I said my family was strict Roman Catholic and I couldn’t view such a thing?”
“Then I’d have to disembowel him and burn his corpse so no one found him.”
“Count me in,” Teàrlag giggled. She reached down and helped Sean disrobe the limp form.

I think you've got a good start here, but it might be easier to remember which character is which, lol, if you had it organized into paragraphs...

keep going!

It was in paragraphs. Its the durned internet

Finally, it's up. I been waiting for this to come out! It's wonderful. Please post soon!
PAMS PAMS PAMS

^-^

You really are talented

~MJ~