Brief author's note: There will be a more extensive A/N at the end of the chapter, but for now I'd just like to say: this isn't, strictly speaking, a crossover with Harry Potter. It's just a Modern AU of Pride and Prejudice, taking place in Hogwarts. You probably don't need to be familiar with Harry Potter to read it, but it would certainly help. There are a lot Harry Potter terms thrown around, and liking that story would make this one more enjoyable, I imagine.

Rating is for swearing. Mostly from Lizzy.

Disclaimer: Neither Pride and Prejudice nor Harry Potter belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Onward!

Chapter One: The Journey to Platform Nine and Three-quarters

In the Gryffindor common room, there are a couple of big, comfy chairs right by the fireplace. In my first year at Hogwarts, I sat in one of these chairs, and a third year came over and tried to make me get out of it. When I wouldn't budge, he started making fun of my freckles; I suppose hoping to embarrass me into running away.

So I stood up, put the body-bind hex on him, bent over him and shoved my wand in his face, told him that wasn't the only place I was willing to shove it, and sat back down.

It was several minutes before one of his friends came over and took the hex off, but he didn't try to get me out of the chair again.

The moral of this story is that making fun of me is not going to get you anywhere. I care very little about negative criticism people direct towards me, probably owing mostly to my mother's influence.

To clarify, I do not mean this as any compliment to her; I mean that since I was a child she has spent so much time criticizing my appearance, personality, habits, and feelings, that I had no choice but to become impervious to it.

"Merlin, Lizzy, can't you brush your hair?"

See? The second I walked into the kitchen, she started right in on me.

Lydia and Kitty sniggered as mom abandoned the pancakes (the pans were doing most of the work themselves, anyway) to come scrutinize my appearance. It usually takes her at least thirty seconds to start this; she must be feeling "anxious" today. September First does that to her.

"I did, mum, it's just like this."

I pried my hair out of her grasp and walked to the table, hoping she wouldn't notice that I was wearing "those dreadful, saggy shorts" of mine.

"I think your hair looks very pretty today, Lizzy," Jane smiled serenely as she arranged the silverware. Mom had recruited her to set the table today, which explained why it had been Lydia's job to wake me up. And Lydia was not nearly as friendly about it ("Lizzy, if you aren't downstairs in five minutes mom's disowning you!" "If you shout in my ear one more time I will curse your mouth off!").

"Thank you, Jane," I pretended to primp my hair at her, making the kissy face that Lydia and Kitty were so fond of.

Jane is probably one of the few people in the world who would call my frizzy, curly, perpetually messy dark hair pretty. She's basically an angel.

I'm not exaggerating, I swear. Angelic is probably the only accurate way to describe my twin sister. Looking at the two of us, there was very little indication - besides identical cheek dimples and the same nose - that the two of us came out of the same womb, much less at the same time. Everything about her seemed to stand in direct contrast to me. Blue eyes; a tall, thin body; light freckles across her nose that were much cuter than mine. Her straight, shiny blonde hair basically flowed delicately around her shoulders. This might lead you to believe that she was being condescending when she complimented my hair, which was just thrown up haphazardly in a ponytail, but Jane does not have a condescending bone in her body. She's all sweet sincerity.

Jane had put the last plate on the table just as mom sent the pancakes flying over. Taking her seat next to me, she began combing her fingers over my ponytail, trying to smooth it out, despite her profession that it was already pretty.

If we were in our room she would probably be trying to put bows in it.

"I hope we're going to talk about something besides our appearances this morning."

"What would you have us talk about, Mary?" Lydia asked very sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes. Girl is stealing all my moves; sarcasm and eye-rolling are both my things.

"Quick, think of the most boring thing you can!" Kitty giggled, and Lydia practically screamed (which was her usual manner of speaking): "The most boring thing? Mary, of course!"

Mary side-eyed the two younger girls as they cackled, but only gave a long-suffering sigh and asked our father for a page of his newspaper, as we were clearly not going to have any rational discussion this morning.

Dad folded down the Daily Prophet, which he had previously been hiding behind at the end of the table, and swept his eyes around the room. The newspaper still hid the lower half of his face, but when his eyes met mine, I could tell he was smirking.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Lizzy. I trust your captain's badge is as shiny as ever?"

"I wasn't shining my badge, Dad –"

"That's more Mary's domain!" Lydia snorted. "At least Lizzy doesn't wear her badge around the house."

Mary was indeed wearing her Prefect badge over her shirt, and she straightened up proudly, determined not to be affected by Lydia's remarks. The middle Bennet was starting her fifth year at Hogwarts, and had received her Ravenclaw Prefect badge at the same time I received my Quidditch captain badge, which was resting in my pocket.

"Lizzy and Mary both deserve their badges," Jane observed. "And they're right to be pleased with the honor that comes with them."

"Thank you, Jane," Mary smiled proudly. "Just because you are unlikely to ever be bestowed with such an honor, Lydia –"

"Hex me if that happens!" Lydia guffawed, and she and Kitty giggled together, now too lost in making fun of the Prefects to pay attention to the rest of the conversation.

Well, if my mother prattling on with virtually no interruption can be called a conversation.

"Being a Prefect certainly is an honor, and I do not understand why Jane was never made a Prefect."

Before I could repeat my oft-stated opinion, that Jane was far too kind to ever even think of getting anyone into trouble (the chief office of a Prefect), mom continued.

"Though why Lizzy was not made a Prefect is perfectly obvious. Honestly, Lizzy, your obsession with that sport I will never understand ."

There appeared to be a great many things she didn't understand.

"And now that you've been made a captain I don't see how we're ever going to tear you away from it. If you spent half as much of your time studying as you do on that broom, you could have grades as good your sister. Honestly, you two are twins, I shall never understand how you can be so different. I am sure Jane would never think of dedicating all her free time to that sport."

"Quidditch is not that sport, mum, it's the sport, and I'm going to –"

"Quidditch this, Quidditch that, how can you be so interested in it? None of your other sisters are. It's that house of yours, all Gryffindors care about is that sport. Yes, that is the only explanation, none of your other sisters are in Gryffindor and none of them play Quidditch, you know."

Of course I knew. Even if it had initially escaped my notice, my mother's pointing it out to me at every opportunity would certainly have impressed the point on my mind by this time.

"And you and Jane are sixteen now, how you can never have brought a boyfriend home yet I shall-"

"Don't you think, my dear," my father interrupted, finally folding up the Prophet, "That we had best be getting on our way?"

Mom's eyes widened comically as she looked at the clock on the wall, and I barely got my hands to my ears in time.

She can scream in the highest pitched voice I have ever heard a human being achieve.

"Oh, John, the time! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Suddenly a flurry of anxious movement, she stood up quickly, waved her wand and did away with all the dishes, though most of us were still eating. "Girls, hurry up and get your shoes on! It's already past ten o'clock, you're going to miss the train!"

I practically ran out of the room, mom still screeching loudly, pots and pans banging against the walls due to her over-enthusiastic wand work.

"She doesn't mean it, Lizzy," Jane whispered to me, as we and the rest of our sisters were putting on our shoes in the living room. "If she really understood how much Quidditch means to you, I'm sure she wouldn't be so against it."

"She knows exactly how much Quidditch means to me, that's why she hates it so much," I laughed more bitterly than I meant to. "It doesn't matter, Jane, honestly. If mom has any hope of me being dissuaded from playing Quidditch because she doesn't approve of it, she is clearly not familiar with my personality."

I had naively hoped that in the considerable chaos of our leaving the house, mom would be distracted from her boyfriend speech, but maybe I wasn't familiar enough with her personality, because this hope clearly underestimated her.

After we had all piled into the van, and she had exhausted her usual epithet against "these muggle contraptions", she got right back on track. And even though Lydia was only just thirteen, mom included all of her daughters in her lectures on getting boyfriends.

"A lot of people meet their future husbands at Hogwarts, you know. It's where I met your father. Lydia, Kitty, you are not too young to start thinking about these things! Before you all know it, your school days will be over, and with so many people already matched up, there won't be many good men to choose from!"

Jane listened politely as mom continued her rant. I slumped in my seat and stared out the window. Mary was hunched forward, trying to discretely shine her Prefect badge. Kitty and Lydia, seated farthest back, didn't even put up a pretense of listening, and were instead flipping through the new edition of the magazine Witch Weekly that Kitty had brought in her purse.

"Girls, are you quite certain that you never heard anything of the Bingley boy?"

"I'm pretty sure, mum," Jane answered. Despite all of us having repeated this nearly every day for the past month, Jane didn't appear impatient. I marvel at her composure. She got all the patience in the gene pool, I'm sure, which is why the rest of us were left with so little.

"Nonetheless, I'm sure you will meet him this year! With as much attention as his family name has gotten this summer, there's no doubt that he'll be known. Just think! Coming in to all that money!"

I would have thought that even mom would be tired of talking about the Bingley family by now. She had been on about them for half the summer.

Louis and Carla Bingley, a married couple, had recently designed a line of cauldrons that were not only cheap, but extremely durable, and they solved some long standing debate about international regulations on cauldron thickness by basically monopolizing the market. Blah, blah, blah. Business language.

Not that any of that mattered to my mother. Hell, the only reason I knew it was because I had gotten bored one day and read the Prophet. No, what mattered to my mother was the money. The Bingleys, due to this recent success, obviously now had a great deal of money rolling in, and as the name of the cauldron brand was "Bingley", they could hardly escape the popularity that would come with it. What's more, they apparently had children, at least one of them – gasp! - a male, who went to Hogwarts. And according to the intelligence (read: gossip) from my mother's sister, that male was about our age.

Nothing could have excited mom more.

"I can't believe none of you know who he is!"

Not everyone at Hogwarts knows everyone else, mom, there are hundreds of freaking kids there.

"I'm sure he's a most delightful young man, especially since this is new money, so he won't have been spoiled by it yet."

You seem remarkably sure of the personality of a person you've never met.

"And hopefully he doesn't have a girlfriend, so one of you can get him. Jane, dear, you are by far the most likely to get a boyfriend this year, you are so sweet, and boys like that, you know. If only we knew what house the boy was in, that would help you a great deal –"

"Oh, I know what house he's in, mum!" Lydia boasted suddenly from the backseat.

"What?" Mom turned around in her seat to grin at her youngest daughter. "Do you really? Quick, honey, tell us! Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I only just remembered that I knew! Harriet told me last week! He's in…"

Here she paused for a moment, smiling widely as she looked around at us, clearly hoping she had created suspense. She succeeded with mom. Kitty must have already known, since she just smiled along with her.

"Out with it, Lydia dear!" Mom waved her on, but she was still grinning.

"He's in… Hufflepuff!" She said this primarily to Jane.

I groaned inwardly; if mom had been harping on Jane the most before, it was going to be nothing to now.

"Hufflepuff! Oh, Jane, did you hear that? The same House as you! Oh, could this be more perfect? Jane, are you quite sure you don't know him?"

"No, mum," Jane looked genuinely sorry at having to disappoint mom in this. Bless her heart.

"But he's in your house! You must have seen in him in the Common Room!"

"I'm sure I have seen him, but didn't know who he was. We must be in different years, because I'm positive I know every sixth year in Hufflepuff."

"Well, this is just perfect," mom continued to gush. "Hopefully he's a seventh year! You need an older boy, Jane, since you're so mature."

What if he's a first year? I wonder how young mom would be willing to stoop for her daughter to get a boyfriend.

"Make sure to pay attention to everyone in your common room this year, dear –"

"We're not even sure he's in Hufflepuff, mum," I said impatiently, because I could see Jane was getting a little uncomfortable with all the attention directed at her.

"Do you doubt my sources, Lizzy?" Lydia asked archly. "I'm telling you, Harriet had it from Maria, and you know Maria's father always has the most accurate news."

"And yet he couldn't tell her what year he's in," Kitty snorted.

"I didn't say he knew everything."

"I didn't say you said he knew everything!"

"Girls! Why do you insist on provoking me with your arguing?" Mom shouted from the front seat, and Kitty, who sat right behind me, mumbled "It's not about you." But luckily I was the only one who heard her.

By some miracle (or Dad having swerved slightly at her sudden yelling), mom was finally distracted from the Bingley topic, and she got back on my father's "absurd muggle habits."

Dad is a Muggle-born, and he still insisted on doing a lot of things the muggle way. He even used a phone sometimes, instead of owls.

"A car is the most convenient way to get to King's Cross from our house, dear."

"Yes, I suppose, but they are so dangerous. I don't see how muggles come up with such absurd ways of travelling."

"Well, magical ways aren't so much better," I said. "Remember that man who left behind both eyes and an ear when he apparated to London last week? You could see the empty eye sockets. Had to tell the muggles who saw him that he was in a chemical accident."

"Lizzy," Jane groaned, covering her ears. "Gross."

"I don't see why they didn't just erase their memories," Lydia leaned forward, putting her head on Jane's seat and started playing with her hair. Kitty annoyingly followed with mine. "Seems much easier."

"It's inhumane if it can be avoided," Jane explained.

"I think I'd want to forget, if I saw that."

"You're such an airhead you'd probably forget anyway –"

"You're such a snob, Lizzy, you're starting to sound like Mary."

"Just because I prefer books to your idle pursuit of boys and gossip –"

"Idle pursuit of boys and gossip," Kitty and Lydia mimicked in high pitched voices.

"Very mature, you little –"

"GIRLS! Stop squabbling! You're going to send me to my grave!"

Due to the speed of dad's driving, which was probably more to get out of that car as soon as possible than to get us there on time, we got to King's Cross station with fifteen minutes to spare.

"Come on, girls, we're going to have to hurry if we want time to get the annual picture!"

I think mom was the only one who wanted that, but we all obediently hurried out of the car anyway. Almost the second we stepped out, I was assaulted with the sound of train whistles blowing and cars passing and a huge crowd of people buzzing about in a hurry, and I felt that rush of excitement that I should have been used to, after having done this five times already. But walking into King's Cross station always felt like a beginning. For a brief moment, the sounds of my sisters' renewed arguing faded, and I fixed my eyes on the train station that was going to take me to my real home.

From Jane's happy sigh next to me, I gathered that she felt the same way; we shared a grin as we put our trunks and owls on trolleys, and pushed on ahead of everyone else, walking quickly towards platforms 9 and 10.

I was mostly able to tune out my mother's loud tirade about how noisy our owls were (she always was unintentionally ironic), and look around at all the muggles rushing about. The train station was such an odd sort of limbo; people didn't come here to stay, they came here to get somewhere else. Everyone had such similar and yet such different reasons for being here, and I don't quite know why that thought gave me such an excited feeling, but it did.

"Lizzy, can you not shut that thing up?" Mom hissed loudly in my ear, ruining my philosophic reverie.

"She doesn't like noise, mom, there's not much I can do," I defended my owl. "It's ok, Thelia, we'll be out of here soon," I cooed at her, giving her a treat from my pocket. Should shut up her squawking for at least ten seconds.

Jane's owl, Pegasus, was glaring at Thelia from his cage. He tucked his snowy head under his wing, as if to further emphasize the fact that he wasn't making any noise.

Even Jane's owl is the good one.

We reached the barriers between platforms nine and ten just as two people were charging for it. I watched, always fascinated, as they ran headlong towards the solid brick wall, and then disappeared when they reached it.

"Ok, Jane, Lizzy, you go first," dad directed. Mom was busy fusing with Lydia's skirt, which she had just noticed was riding up rather high. I heard her telling Lydia something stupid about getting milk for free, then Jane and I ran, pushing our trolleys in front of us, straight for the wall between the platforms.

I instinctively closed my eyes as we approached the brick wall, and when I opened them a second later, we had made it across.

Gone was the bustling, crowded muggle world of King's Cross station, and here was the bustling, crowded world of platform nine and three quarters; filled with students greeting their friends after months apart, parents preparing for months apart, loud laughter and talking and the occasional blast of color from the rogue wand. And sitting in the backdrop was the Hogwarts Express, the train where we would be spending the majority of the day.

"Oh, Lizzy, aren't you so glad to be back?" Jane sighed, smiling in her usual content manner as she took in the surroundings.

"Jane, I am ecstatic."

Our calm happiness was disrupted very quickly, though.

"Out of the way, nerds!" Lydia yelled as she and Kitty barreled past us, screaming in glee as they saw some of their friends gathered near the train.

"Thank goodness we won't be sleeping across the hall from those two anymore."

Jane just shook her head at their "antics", and we waited for the rest of our family to run through the barrier. Mary went right off to the bathrooms to change into her robes ("The Prefects are expected to be in their robes for the train meeting," she was kind enough to inform us, for the third time that day), and when she got back we headed to the train.

To my dismay, I soon realized that my mother was far from being the only one who couldn't stop talking about the Bingleys. I overheard at least three conversations about them on the very short walk to the Hogwarts Express, and two of them seemed to center around the son, who was apparently "dreamy."

I didn't even know people still used that word.

"Those poor people," I remarked to Jane, as we stood in front of the train, and our parents searched for Lydia and Kitty in the crowd. "All they did was make some fu – freaking cauldrons, and now they're all anyone can talk about."

Jane looked perturbed; she couldn't decide whether to agree with my assessment of the Bingleys' misfortune, or defend the rest of the wizarding world for talking about them.

She was saved the trouble of having to decide by the appearance of Kitty and Lydia, and mom lined us up for the annual before school picture.

"No, Lydia, we do it in order of age, you can't be in the middle – yes I know dear, but it's tradition – Lizzy, quit slouching! You're already the shortest, you'll look ridiculous if you get much lower. Kitty, fix your bangs, they've separated."

Dad, exasperated, finally coaxed the camera from mom and took the picture himself.

"Say 'cheese'."

"What? Why?"

Lydia's protests were lost in the rest of us obediently chorusing the word.

"Now, girls, remember to behave yourselves," mom began as she went down the line, hugging each of us in turn. "But of course have fun, too." She directed this last part with a smile at Lydia and Kitty, the two she least needed to remind. "Mary, I'm sure you will be an excellent Prefect."

Here she got teary eyed. "Lizzy, darling, do try to study harder this year."

She smiled at me so affectionately that I almost resolved to listen to her, but my father's wink luckily snapped me out of that.

"Jane, study hard, as you always do, but don't forget to pay some attention to boys as well!"

Dad followed mom down the line, giving us each a kiss on the forehead.

"You'll make a wonderful captain, Lizzy," he mumbled, giving me one of his rare, true smiles. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, dad," I said, proud that I'd kept my voice even, though I felt slightly chocked up. I might not miss much from home, but I would miss my father.

Mom seemed ready to go into another speech, but the train whistle suddenly blew loudly behind us, and the last people left on the platform started to board. So instead, she just pulled us into one last group hug, and we all escaped just in time to hop on the train as the doors were starting to close.

"Goodbye girls!" Mom yelled after we stuck our heads out of the nearest available windows. The train started pulling away, and several other parents were gathered near it, yelling goodbyes at their own children. But even though this, and the train loudly chugging along, created considerable noise, we had no trouble hearing our mother's voice above it.

"Behave yourselves! We'll see you at Christmas! Don't forget what I told you about boyfriends-"

We continued to wave as the train moved slowly away from the platform. I just saw dad put an arm around mom, who was crying in earnest now, before we rounded a corner, and then the platform was out of sight.

A/N: 1. I'm going to assume audience knowledge for Harry Potter, so I won't be explaining things about Hogwarts that were stated in the book, but if you have any questions feel free to message me!

2. If you disagree with my sorting choices, keep in mind that I have to change the characters slightly from their book originals, since this is 200 years later, and your idea of how modern times will have affected them may be different than mine, though of course I try to keep them in character. If you want to hear my reasoning for a character's House, again feel free to message me! I'll tell you as long as it doesn't contain spoilers.

3. This is a work in progress. I should be able to update around once a week, and I'm anticipating about 25 chapters.

4. Thank you for reading! Reviews/constructive criticism appreciated!