Disclaimer: Still not JKR :
Chapter One: Platform
It was raining. Of course it was. It was September in London. Not that it isn't usually sunny, but rain shouldn't have been a surprise. On the way to King's Cross, I watched the raindrops pitter-patter onto my window in the backseat of the car. I idly twirled my wand as I watched the rain, only vaguely aware of the smooth wood in my hands.
"Stop that!" my sister hissed.
I glared at her. She glared right back, her light blue-green eyes shooting positively murderous looks at me. I rolled my eyes and looked back out the window. Petunia could deal with my wand. It wasn't my fault she had come to hate all things magical. Okay, so maybe it was, but still. If I could perk up her day by providing a glaring target, then my life was complete.
We got to King's Cross not long after that. My father helped me get all my things onto the trolley, and my mother simply became a blubbery mess, as usual. They all kissed me goodbye, Petunia giving me a smirk.
"Have fun at freak school," she sneered.
"Have fun with the Baconator," I shot back. I called Petunia's wonderful boyfriend the Baconator. It suited Vernon quite well.
Mum glared at me through her tears, "Have a wonderful year, Lily," she blubbered. She was always a mess when sending me off to school. Something about 'her baby growing up so fast'. It would be sweet if she hadn't been doing it since I was eleven.
"See you next summer, darling," Dad said as he kissed my forehead.
With a cheery wave, I went through the barrier that divided platforms nine and ten.
"Lily Evans!" called a very familiar voice.
I turned around and saw where the voice was coming from. Coming towards me, school robes already on, was one of my best friends- Emily Cummings. Emily was gracefully running towards me, her light gold ponytail swinging as she did. Emily was one of those people who, if they weren't quite so perfect, you would hate. She was tallish and built like a ballerina, with all the grace of someone who had studied dance their whole life (even though she hadn't). Emily had golden blonde hair that fell in gentle curls just past her shoulders and was usually pulled out of velvety soft brown eyes. She was unfairly beautiful. The type of person who turned heads simply by breathing it seemed. Best of all, and what I loved best about her, was that she knew she was pretty, but was never entirely sure what she thought of it. Completely unaware of how to take in her own looks. Usually she settled for a sort of bashful modesty. It was impossible to hate Emily. Utterly impossible.
"Emily Cummings!" I said as she gave me a tight hug, "You certainly are brown,"
Emily shrugged her graceful shoulders, "We went to Greece for a month for the Ministry."
Emily's father worked for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and so the Cummings's were always going off to fab places.
I looked over Emily's shoulder, "Where's Bridget?"
"Late, as usual," Em said, rolling her eyes.
I stood on my tiptoes in a vain attempt to see around me. Since when were third years so tall? And bloody obnoxious to boot! I looked around the crowded platform, trying to find our friend. There were the whelpy third years, a very astounded (and most likely Muggle-born) first year and his equally astounded mother, and a gangly sixth year Ravenclaw attempting to struggle free of his mother's embrace.
"MOTHER OF MERLIN!" exclaimed a voice in a lilting Irish brogue. Within a second, a short girl with a face full of freckles, blue eyes, and a wild mane of black curls that practically ate her face stepped into view.
Bridget.
My other best friend was pushing a trolley with one hand, catching an owl cage in the other, and was balancing a rucksack on her knee as it fell. Emily and I burst into fits of laughter. Bridget glared jokingly.
"Titchy little third years," she threw a dirty look at the third years in question, "Sorry I'm so late! Danny threw a tantrum because he's too little to come, then Katie realized she didn't have her Potions book, and Patrick decided to sleep in until fifteen minutes before we had to leave!" Bridget explained as she reorganized her things.
None of this surprised me. Bridget comes from this absolutely huge Irish wizarding family. She had five siblings; three too young to go to Hogwarts, a sister in Hufflepuff and brother in Ravenclaw. I had gone to their house once, during fourth year, and frankly, I was amazed that they all got to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters every year.
Emily hadn't quite composed herself again, so I helped Bridget with her things and we boarded the train just as the all aboard was called.
Unfortunately for us, there were almost no compartments left. There was one at the back, with just three little first years in it; and another one with four hulking Slytherins in it. Finally we slumped against the wall.
"It's hopeless," Emily muttered, as she rubbed her temple with long fingers. I sighed my agreement.
"Hey! What about this oneā¦" Bridget started, then trailed off, looking skeptical as she peered inside the compartment. It was one of the largest ones on the train, so I couldn't see what was wrong with it.
Emily went to stand behind Bridget. Her eyes widened and then she looked at me, a little apprehensively.
"Well, it is the only compartment big enough," she said slowly, "But we can always keep looking."
"Oh, bollocks. Because there will be another one with enough room," I said as I pushed away from the wall and pushed my red hair out of my face. Silly girls. No matter who was in that compartment, we would sit there.
Bridget shrugged and walked into the compartment. Emily shot me a look of sympathy, which immediately made me thirty times more nervous.
I walked in behind my friends, almost tripping over Emily's robes. Once inside, I saw what caused my friends' hesitation at once. And understood why they suggested we keep on looking for another compartment. A compartment that all three of us knew was not going to be found.
My green eyes widened in horror, "No. No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be the only compartment left."
So thank you for reading! (I am assuming that since you are reading this you got this far and actually read the story. But then again, maybe I shouldn't assume. My blodge teacher says all it does is makes an ass out of u and me. tehehehe) If you liked it, or if you think it was pooey, please tell me! I really appreciate constructive criticism.
Merci beaucoup!
NeverAPrefect
