It was my first year. I was coming onto the Hogwarts express after saying goodbye to my magical parents. I walked past a carriage containing three people. One had ginger hair and dirt on his nose. Another had long, curly hair; and the last had a lightning bolt on his forehead and glasses – Harry Potter.

"Hello, I was wondering if I could share this carriage? All the rest are taken and I am really in need of a rest."

Harry spoke up. "Sure! What's your name? I'm Harry, this is Hermione and this is Ron."

"I'm Rachel. Ron, I don't mean to be rude, but I thought I would alert you to the fact you have dirt on your nose. It must be quite dissatisfying to accidentally alter your appearance in such a way."

"Oh, um yes. Dirt… right… dirt on my face."

I sat down to the glare of Harry, but Hermione answered the lingering question. "Don't mind Harry, he's not used to hearing long words."

"I apologise. I am a sesquipedalionist. I use long words. I always have been a quintessential sesquipedalionist. Just alert me if I'm talking gibberish and I'll rethink my selection of vocabulary."

For a couple of hours things were fine. We were delighted when the shop trolley came around, as I was dead thirsty. We sat scoffing our faces with chocolate frogs. I got Rowena Ravenclaw. I wonder if this was foreshadowing something. I don't know.

It had gone dark; everyone else was asleep. Yet I could not sleep for the trepidation in my stomach was keeping me wide-awake. I saw someone in a dark cloak walk up to the carriage door and open it slightly. I could tell it was a man by his stature. He stood a tad under 7 feet tall and had wide shoulders. He had his hood low over his face so that only a pair of thin lips could be seen, in the middle of a short, ginger goatee. When he spoke, he struck me as kind, but extremely tired, as if he hadn't slept in a week.

"Is everyone okay in here?" His deep south American accent caught me by surprise, it was so velvety, but I recovered before he could notice. I think.

"I can't speak for the sleeping babies, but I'm splendid, sir."

He smirked at my wit, "yet slightly lackadaisical, Miss Rachel".

"What? How did you?"

"You are not the only person who bears the kiss of the moon as one of her children. I am also a wolf. It can be our little secret." With that, the man shut the door and moved to the next carriage. How did he know I was a werewolf? He must have heard me with his sensitive hearing. This will be an eventful year…