Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Written for round two of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.
Kenmare Kestrals: Character Hermione,verb ride.
Position: Beater 2
Prompts: 9.(word) creature, 8.(dialogue) "Hatred knows no "ounds, huh." and 2.(word) wonderful.
Set: The train ride at the end of Harry's second year.
Harry's P.O.V
The Hogwarts Express engine purrs like a content creature as it moves along the train tracks; there is a wonderful soft breeze blowing through the compartment.
Ron lets out a soft snore; he'd fallen asleep with a full stomach. Hermione is nibbling her bottom lip as she reads through the homework set for the summer holidays, and I sit here with the feeling of dread and homesickness, the dread of having to return to the Dursleys and missing Hogwarts, the first place that has ever felt like home to me.
The train is going faster than I'd like, but for Ron and Hermione it isn't going fast enough to return to their families.
"Hatred knows no bounds, huh," Hermione mutters and blushes slightly at having said it out.
I do what I always do when I'm in her company and that's ask her a question,"What does that mean Mione?" My voice sounds scratchy from not having a drink for a few hours.
"I'm not sure, but it reminds of Tom Riddle, or You-Know-Who, or whatever he likes to be called," Hermione says while passing me a bottle of water.
I unscrew the bottle lid and put the bottle to my lips, taking slow sips of water that feels like heaven as it goes down my throat; the train gives a little jolt and I just avoid spilling water on myself.
"He likes to be called Voldemort." Hermione flinches at my words, and it amazes me that two years at Hogwarts has drilled the fear of his name into her.
"Don't say his name Harry; I get a bad feeling when you do," Hermione pleads. It sounds weird for Hermione to say something illogical, basing things on a feeling.
We go back to silence; it's uncomfortable and I want to apologize, but I can't say sorry for not being afraid of a name.
I grab a chocolate frog and place it on her lap instead. Hermione smiles the smile that signals all is okay between us.
Ron's dribbling. He really is in a deep sleep;it's the first time he's rested like that since Ginny was taken to the Chamber of secrets.
I'm glad he didn't see her lying there, pale and almost lifeless because I don't think he'd sleep again out of not wanting to let his sister out of his sight.
I wish I'd never seen her like that. I wish Hermione hadn't spent weeks lying in the hospital wing after being petrified, and I wish Tom Riddle hadn't ever existed.
If he hadn't, my parents would be waiting for me at the train stop. They'd discuss with me about staying at the burrow in the summer. My mum and Hermione could talk about books; I heard Professor McGonagall say that Hermione is similar to my mum when she was Hermione's age.
I can feel a lump forming in my throat so I look out of the window to see the blur of things as the train whizzes by them, going so fast that I could miss seeing something spectacular.
The Hogwarts Express isn't purring now, but humming from the floor to the roof.
It's going too fast; it is in a haste to get the students to the train station and into the arms of their families. But what about us who have no arms to embrace us when we step onto the platform?
Why doesn't this metal humming beast slow down for me and those like me?
I can hear the scratching of a quill. When did Hermione get a quill and parchment out and start writing? What spell is she using to keep the ink firmly in place and not spill all over the compartment?
I feel restless from sitting so long and yet I want to sit here forever.
The breeze has stopped coming through the window; the air has become still and warm.
I get up and close the window, as the purpose of having it open was to feel the breeze, but now that the breeze is gone, the window has no purpose being open.
Ron's awake now; I don't have to look at him to know that the grunting sound he makes as he stretches out his legs is enough for me to know he's awake.
Hermione isn't writing anymore; she's handing Ron a water bottle. I wonder how many water bottles she has in that bag.
I need to go to the bathroom, but I hold it as I hate using the toilets on the Hogwarts Express.
There is always a long queue and knowing my luck I'll run into Malfoy and his cronies.
I bet my parents hated the toilets on board the train as much as I do. I could be sitting in the same compartment as the one they sat in.
Hermione might be sitting in the same seat my dead mother once sat in. Ron might have dribbled all over the same place my father once sat.
I've never thought about my parents riding this very same train as me and my friends, but they would have.
This train is another link to them, but the link will sever once I step off the train and onto the platform.
If this ride went on forever, I'd forever have a link to them. I could sit with Ron and Hermione in this compartment for all of time, but it won't go on forever.
The train just keeps going faster and faster,not caring that I don't want it to stop or that the faster it goes, it takes away my bond to my parents.
This metal beast doesn't care about me or my wants.
This metal beast will not go on forever, no matter how much I plead.