The next second I could remember he was gone; I was left alone again in the train, only this time about forty years before I was even born.

“You are Miss Caldwell, I suppose?” The older woman asked her, her face still unreadable, but her penetrating eyes studying her carefully.

So, that was the way a little lamb felt before being eaten by a wolf… Not the pleasantest experience so far, still she was impressed of how quickly McGonagall had managed to find her name.