Flashbackâ
I walked down the platform, searching for a way to reach the train. My Muggle parents had already left me on my own, so it looked like I was going to have to figure this out on my own. I scoped out the area, looking for someone who looked vaguely wizard-like, or anything out of the ordinary. No luck. I leaned against the wall and slumped down dejectedly. Looks like I wasn't getting to Hogwarts. But wait! A family with flaming red hair and a screeching owl were loading up their things. Most Muggles definitely didn't have owls for pets. I moved in a little closer, hoping they wouldn't notice me staring at them. I looked at the tallest child. He was thin and gangly, squinting from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. All of his belongings were meticulously organized into his cart. He looked like he knew what he was doing. He took a deep breath, a few steps forward, and WHOOSH. He had run somewhere with his cart, but where...? An older, thinner man was about to follow him. I focused all of my attention on him, hoping to see where he went. The man ran a hand through his thin red hair, inhaled deeply, and ran. I blinked several times. He had run into the wall. There was no way that was right. I kept looking at the family.
Along with the older man and his son, there were five others. I assumed that one of them was the mother; she was much larger and older-looking than the rest of the children, and she was scolding them. The young child next to her was swinging on her arm, swishing her long, red hair around. She looked no older than nine. A few feet away from them was a red-faced boy, wearing a sweater and too-short trousers. He waited a few moments until the mother had turned around, and poked her as hard as he could in the ribs. She screeched and stumbled before turning to playfully swack at the boy's head. The three redheads began to play-fight, bursting into laughter and hugging. And then I noticed the other two boys.
They were standing a few meters away from the others, lounging against a wall. Besides their flaming red hair, they looked different from the rest of the family; the boys themselves, however, looked exactly the same. They were a few inches taller than me, and had the bodies of soccer players; lean, and not overly muscular, but obviously strong. The one on the left was digging around in his pockets, looking for something. The one on the right had his arms crossed around his well-built chest, and was laughing at whatever his brother had said as his eyes swept around the platform. He began to look in my general direction, slowly getting closer. I was about to duck away, but then he did it. Looked into my eyes, that is. His eyes were blue; bluer than the sky or the ocean or any blue I had ever seen in my life. They were incredible, almost piercing, and easygoing and trusting. Still, they held a mischievous gleam. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as he ran his hand through his hair. He winked at me. Did he really just wink at me? My heart soared into my chest and I felt like I was flying. I decided I needed to know this boy. I marched . . . correction. I forced myself over towards the mother and the two younger children. I spluttered a few times before finally choking out what I wanted to say. "Excuse me, but could you show me how to get onto the platform?"