Author's note: Hokay, so I don't know how good this story is, but meh. The chapter kind of tapers off at the end, as I didn't know quite how to end it. I know a few things are different from what actually takes place in the series, such as that Ron isn't a prefect and that Harry doesn't meet Luna Lovegood on the train, but that's just what had to happen to fit the story. So please forgive me. :) Anyway, please review and I'll try to get the second chapter up as soon as I can.
Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. I don't claim credit for any character but Jessica Tomlinson, the narrator. I also don't claim credit for any locations. I didn't invent Hogwarts, Platform 9 3/4, King's Cross Station, England, the USA, Earth, etc. I don't claim credit for practically anything, except, like I said, Jessica Tomlinson. Even though I wish I could. But alas, I'm just some random kid writing a fanfiction. So please don't sue me. :
"Are you sure?" I asked my dad nervously. We were standing in front of a solid barrier in King's Cross Station, which he was now telling me I had to walk through.
"Yes, quite. That's what the letter from the Headmaster said, and I assume he knows what he's talking about. Now hurry, before someone asks what we're doing," he replied impatiently. I sighed and decided to take his word for it. I took a few steps back, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked resolutely forward. As much as I wanted to stop when I drew close to the barrier, I didn't allow myself to.
A few seconds later I opened my eyes. I wasn't aware that I had closed them, but upon opening them I saw a completely different train station than the one I had left behind. I felt my dad come up behind me, wheeling my trunk along on a trolley, but I was busy taking in the surroundings. There were hundreds of people milling about, saying goodbye to their families and hello to their friends. There was a sign that read "Platform 9 3/4" hanging over a scarlet train marked "The Hogwarts Express."
I walked forward without a word to my dad, for I was still a bit mad at him for making me leave the US and come here for no apparent reason. I understood that he wanted to help out with the effort to vanquish Lord Voldemort, who had just regained power, but this seemed kind of crazy. He was an Auror, trained in the USA, where he worked for fifteen years, until he decided to uproot our lives and move to England. I still loved my dad, but after my mom had died three years before, he hadn't been the same. In fact, I could barely remember the goofy, fun-loving guy he had been before the accident turned him into some stiff, up-tight, humorless person that I barely knew. He took to wearing reading glasses all the time and dressing in khakis and sweater vests rather than his former preference of shorts and band T-shirts. He stopped listening to rock and roll, and instead he tuned the wireless to a classical station. I missed the person my dad used to be, and I had taken to avoiding the man who had replaced him. He followed me over to the train, where I turned to face him.
"I guess I'll see you later," I told him.
"Yes, I suppose you will," he replied. Instinctively I reached up to hug him, but was rebuffed. Instead he stuck out his hand for me to shake. I stared up at him for a moment, waiting for his eyes to light up, for him to crack a smile and say "Come here, you," before drawing me into a bone-crushing bear hug, like he would have done four years ago, but I was disappointed. I decided to ignore his hand.
"Yeah. Bye." I picked my trunk up off the trolley and shoved it onto the train before climbing up after it. I didn't look back at my dad. I didn't care if I had hurt his feelings. He had been hurting mine daily for the past three years, and I was done caring about what he felt. I moved along the train, dragging my trunk behind me, peering into each compartment as I passed it, looking for an empty one. When I finally found one near the back of the train, I slid the door open and stepped inside. I hoisted my trunk up into the luggage rack, and sat down at the window seat. Carefully looking out the window at anything but my dad, I sat there wondering about the year to come.
At my old school in the US, where I had served my first four years of magical education, I had had friends. A best friend, Marissa, who I had known since I was four, who knew everything about me, a circle of other close friends, and a great boyfriend. But I had been forced to leave all that behind because of my dad's ludicrous desire to fight some insanely powerful wizard and make my life as miserable as possible. Here, in a country on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, where I knew no one but my dad, I felt quite alone. This feeling was intensified by the knowledge that I was coming in for fifth year. Everyone would already have friends, friends that they had had since first year. How was I supposed to fit in? Who would I hang around with? Who would I eat lunch with? Who would I sit with in class? My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the compartment door being pushed open, and I looked up to see three boys stepping over the threshold, each bearing their own trunk. One with black hair, glasses, and a rather unusual scar on his forehead spoke.
"Mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full," he asked.
"Oh, uh - yeah, no problem," I told him and stood up to hold his owl's cage while he stowed his trunk in the luggage rack next to mine. Another of the guys, this one with red hair spoke next.
"Thanks. I'm Ron. And this is Neville," he said, indicating himself and then the last boy who had entered the compartment, this one with brown hair, clutching a toad. "And this," he added, indicating the boy who had spoken first "is-"
"Harry Potter, I know," I said. When Harry looked slightly annoyed I added "Sorry, man, you're kind of a big deal, even in the USA, where I'm from."
"Eh, whatever. I should be used to it by now. It's just odd, you know?" he said.
"Well, no, I can't say I can, but I can imagine," I said with a bit of a laugh. "Anyway, I'm Jessi. I just moved to England this summer."
"Oh, so what year are you in?" Ron asked.
"Fifth."
"Ah, us too," he told me. "So do you know what House you're in?"
"Nah, I'm supposed to be sorted right before the first years are. At least, that's what the letter I got from the Headmaster says," I informed them.
Now that everyone's trunks had been lifted into the luggage rack, we all sat down. There was a bit of an awkward silence, and I cast around in my mind to find something to break it, until Harry asked if I followed Quidditch.
"Oh, God yes. I love Quidditch, but each and every team from the US sucks! So instead I support the Chudley Cannons," I told them. "What about you guys?"
I learned that Ron also supported the Chudley Cannons and that Harry played Seeker for the Gryffindor House Team, and that Neville didn't play Quidditch but was a fan of the game, and we continued talking about Quidditch until the compartment door slid open again a few hours later. A girl with bushy, brown hair walked in, sat down next to Neville and burst out, "Oh my God, you wouldn't believe some of the younger students. They're so rude! We definitely were not that rude in first year." She looked around, and appeared to notice me for the first time. She looked questioningly round at Harry, Ron, then Neville.
"Hermione, this is Jessi. She only just moved from the US. She's in our year, but she doesn't know what House she's in yet," Ron explained. "Jessi, this is our best friend, Hermione. She's a prefect, which is why she only just got here."
Soon after our introduction, two tall, identical guys with red hair walked in, and they were introduced as Fred and George, Ron's older brothers. Over the course of the trip I was also introduced to Ginny, Ron's sister, and couple other guys from Gryffindor, Dean and Seamus. By the end of the trip my feelings of being alone had evaporated, and as I got off the train and climbed into a horseless carriage with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny, I could only hope that I was in Gryffindor with them. As we clambered out of the carriages and climbed the stairs to the great oak front doors, all I could do was wonder nervously what was to come.
Author's note: Oooooh, cliffhanger! Actually, no. More like: Oooooh, failed attempt at a cliffhanger! I have the second chapter planned out in my mind, I just have to actually get words on paper. Or words on keyboard. Whatevs. :) So anyway, I appreciate reviews, whether good or bad, and suggestions for things to happen in chapters to come are always appreciated. Thank you and good night.