"It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew - and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world." ~ Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 23
Enna was watching the people. There were a lot of them, all dressed in strange, bright clothes - robes, gowns, dresses and puffy sleeves and deep majestic hues of color and pointy hats and pointy noses. Talking, shouting, laughing—their loud, exuberant voices rose up into the air, meshing together, mingling with the sounds of trains click-clacking and whistles whooshing and station masters yelling. There were mothers crying and fathers coughing as they embraced their squirming children, and Enna noticed one large family of redheads all huddled together and the mum was yelling something and shaking a tall, freckly boy by the shoulders while two others—probably his brothers—laughed and snickered. Some of the people were wearing average, run-of-the-mill streetwear, staring at the hustle and bustle with eyes as wide as her own. Theirs, however, were full of confusion. Those were the Muggle parents, no doubt about it; the ones that looked so awestruck and terrified. They stuck out like rabbits in a pack of dogs, but their children were bright and unafraid, because they were in on the secret, if only partway. They feared no magic, though they knew little as of yet.
Inhaling deeply, Enna soaked up her newfound freedom, the ebb and flow of humans connecting and the ground meeting the sky like she'd never dreamed it could. Every little detail was hers, down to the simple breeze teasing gently at her hair and the slight feeling of chill in her bones. Even the smoke clouds billowing out from the trainstacks seemed to surrender to her rush of power, slithering away in gusts when she reached out to touch them with a finger. Was she doing magic? She didn't know. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun.
Suddenly, out of the middle of nowhere, Enna saw a boy barreling straight towards her, and the sight snapped her out of her dazed, stupefied reverie. She realized that he saw her too but he was going so fast and tripping over his feet with a look of impending doom in his eyes because he couldn't stop and in that split-second she knew that he'd crash into her. And he did—she felt a whoosh of air going straight out of her lungs as his body slammed right on top of hers. Whatever he was holding flew all over the place with shatters and clatters that made people's heads snap in their direction. She was falling hard to the ground, made limp by the impact, suitcase following close behind. The force of the collision caused the boy to roll off of her backwards and land with a hard-sounding thud and she skidded backwards too, but she couldn't think about it because her vision was hazy and she couldn't breathe either 'cause there was no breath in her lungs to breathe. And then there were footsteps pounding towards them and people surrounding the scene, leaning over her, speaking with rushed concern though she couldn't reply back. She heard the boy struggling to his feet as he whimpered, "I'm sorry, so very sorry, but have you seen my toad Trevor, I was only trying to catch him..." and someone reached a hand out towards her and she took it weakly. She was still trying to get her breath back, because the boy who bumped into her was built stout and sturdy, stronger than her, bigger than her, and even though he wasn't that big he'd still knocked the wind out of her.
"Are you all right?" A frizzy-haired girl asked. Enna couldn't even get a word out of her mouth, nor did she want to—embarrassed and irritated beyond words. The girl creased her forehead, taking the silence for temporary lung failure. "Is that your suitcase?" she inquired, pointing to Enna's lumpy brown luggage. "If you have anything breakable in it, it's probably broken, you know. It hit the ground rather hard. Are you sure you're all right? I mean, you probably flew back about two or three feet or so." She was speaking so fast that Enna could hardly process the words, so she just nodded. Frustrated with a lack of response, the girl sighed and walked away, shooting Enna one last worried frown before she went.
An elderly lady was pushing through the small mob surrounding them, shouting. "Neville! Neville! Where have you wandered off to this time?" She spotted the boy who knocked Enna over—Neville, apparently—and her expression immediately hardened. "Where's Trevor? Don't tell me you lost him again, Neville Longbottom!"
"I was looking for him," Neville said quietly, shuffling his feet, "but then I accidentally bumped into her..." he glanced over to Enna, and the lady's head swiveled around like a bird of prey, eyeing up the mussed clothing and upturned suitcase.
"Oh, my dear," she gasped, "I'm very sorry. My grandson is so clumsy, he doesn't mean any harm, he's just a disaster waiting to happen! Are you hurt, dearie? I hope he didn't injure you too badly, you're such a scrawny thing!" She tittered on, and Enna stole a glance at Neville. His ears were red with shame, and she couldn't help but feel a little less aggravated.
"Neville!" his grandmother barked, noticing the shared glance with her hawk eyes. "Where are your manners? Apologize to the little girl!"
They both cringed at the old lady's use of the term "little girl" - one mortified, one simmering. "I-It was my fault, please don't worry about it!" Neville stammered, apologizing for his grandmother just as much as himself. "I... I'm really very sorry. I'm terribly clumsy, you know..."
Enna said nothing. She was hardly paying attention to Neville's stuttering; instead, her gaze was roving over his pudgy cheeks and dark hair, the spattering of freckles across his nose, eyes narrowing in introspection as she studied him. Where had she heard this boy's name before? He smacked of familiarity, though his face was as foreign to her as anyone else's. Did she really know him, or was she just fooling herself?
Slicing through Enna's exasperation like a knife, Neville's grandmother grabbed his hand and piped up: "Well, I'm sorry for all the commotion, we should really be going now. Come on, Neville." Neville shot her one last look of utter apology before his grandmother dragged him off towards the train, saying "I thought I saw Trevor hop this way... really Neville, I can't understand how you persuaded me to buy you that animal, I'll never get you another pet until you become less of a wreck..."
Thankfully nobody seemed to be taking notice of her anymore, but Enna still felt her cheeks burning and her heart racing. Who was that stupid kid?
"Firs' years, firs' years over here!" A loud, gruff voice called out. Some giant man with a giant beard was towering over the cluster of tiny people gathering around the train's doors, beckoning children towards him. Realizing that it was time to board, she grabbed her luggage and shoved her way through the surrounding witches and wizards. As she drew nearer to the train, she was suddenly swallowed up by a sea of kids, shouting and bumping from all sides. Swathes of black flashed under her nose, above her head, silver clasps glinting and voices ringing from all sides in an outpour of joy.
Following Hagrid's call, everyone made their way onto the train, through the doors, and down the narrow hall full of glass-windowed booths, swelling with excitement. Enna wished she could stand there forever and bury her feet into the luxurious carpet, but there was no time to stand at wait. Kids were pairing off, filling up the little compartments quickly, and she wanted to find an empty one before they were all occupied. With brisk steps, she paced down the train, face falling ever-so-slightly when she saw that not a single empty space had been left. She searched all around for a near-vacant booth, finally settling down in one containing a single girl with straggly white-blonde hair.
The girl had her face buried in an upside-down newspaper. When she heard Enna shut the door, she flipped a page and inquired without glancing upwards, "And who might you be?"
When Enna didn't reply, the girl frowned, vaguely displeased at being ignored. She put her newpaper down and declared, "My name is Luna. Luna Lovegood, that is."
This Luna Lovegood was wearing huge pink glasses that looked downright ridiculous on her thin face. They obscured her buggy eyes almost completely, but Enna could still see them protruding from their sockets in curiosity. Her absent gaze wandered over Enna's cramp-legged form, assimilating, seeing without actually focusing.
Enna glanced out the window of the train, watching the world hurry past as she left it behind. Every small bump, every tedious clack - each one was the sound of freedom and fresh breath, and possibly the sound of a miracle. Maybe she felt a slight rush of happiness at the thought of going to Hogwarts, just maybe. It was a strange sensation.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" Luna spoke up, smiling. "D'you know, we're going to Scotland? I hear there's lots of selkies there, even Hogwarts has some in the lake - they're really fantastic creatures! I used to be friends with one when I was a little girl, I think she'd swam too far south and gotten lost when she tried to go back home, which was very sad. She taught me lots of Mermish, even though I had to stick my head underwater whenever she wanted to tell me something, 'cause merpeople can't speak very well when they're not submerged. It's a really easy language to learn, once you get the idea of it."
Enna let Luna talk as she half-listened, staring out the window in a daze. Everything was a blur, including Luna's emphatic tales of magical creatures and crazy encounters with nonhuman beings. Her voice would lilt soft and slow if she was talking about something sad, and drop to a low pitch when she was relating a tale of bloodthirsty beasts, but she never talked too loudly or too quickly. Enna found herself dozing off to the sound of Luna's storytelling, her intonations and exaggerations weaving in and out of Enna's head, soothing her into sleep.
Fingers grasped her shoulders lightly, causing her to start and panic. "Get off!" Enna shouted at whoever was shaking her, hand diving sloppily into the wand pocket of her robe.
"I'm sorry," Luna's voice spoke, startled and apologetic. The fingers leapt away from Enna like they'd just brushed against a sizzling cauldron. "It's only me, Luna. Were you having a nightmare?"
Enna's eyes opened, awareness dawning on her groggy face. She must have been sleeping. Somehow, she'd closed her lids and never opened them.
"We're close to Hogwarts," she explained. "They just announced it; we're a half-hour away."
"A half-hour?"
"Well, I'm not sure now. It's probably been about two minutes since I heard the announcement, so perhaps twenty-eight."
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Enna mumbled to no one in particular, her gaze wandering back over to the window again. The train was now racing over a pristine lake, water stretching out from all sides into the blue, tree-lined horizon. Even though common sense told Enna that they were currently on a track, speeding towards the safety of dry land, when she looked down it was as if there was nothing below but the perilous deep, and nothing beyond but mystery.
"Quite all right," Luna said civilly. "It's good that I was here to wake you up. You were in a funk."
"A funk," Enna repeated, confused.
"A funk," she confirmed, with no further explanation. Enna gave her a sidelong stare. Luna quirked her lips in reply. It was almost like one of her earlier smiles, but a little bit more self-aware and sardonic. "All right, I've waited long enough," she declared. "Go on, tell me. What's your name?"
It took Enna a few moments to remember. The one she'd given at St. Mungo's, with only a faint remembrance of its original form. The one she'd given to Hagrid on the day of her release. "It's... Enna, I think," she muttered, racking her brain as she answered.
"You think?" Luna asked curiously.
"Enna, it's Enna," she asserted, more confident now in her accuracy. Her memory still wasn't fully-functional, and even things at St. Mungo's were a little vague and fuzzy in retrospect.
"Well, nice to meet you, Enna," Luna said, tilting her head slightly to the right. "Say, have you ever heard of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"