A/N: Well, I kinda forgot to introduce the story and all that jazz in the last chapter. So here we are now! I give you a belated welcome to Love, Hate, and the Insane Connection Between Them. canned applause Thank you, thank you! I won't waste any more of your valuable time now. Go on and read. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with the supreme J.K. Rowling.

Two hours later, I was being jostled along in a noisy train station, searching the signs desperately for a mention of Platform 9 3/4. People were running around on all sides of me, everyone seeming to be in the utmost rush to get to their stations. Had my hand not been clasped so hard by my mother's, I was sure that I would have been swept away into the crowd.

I felt incredibly small next to all these busy, hurrying people, and my ears went scarlet every time someone gave me a peculiar glance—Athena, my owl, was attracting a lot of attention.

"I don't get it, Rina," my father was mumbling helplessly. "There just doesn't seem to be a Platform 9 3/4 anywhere."

"Well then, we'll just have to ask someone for help," my mother, Amorina, said firmly. Still clutching my hand tightly, she steered us over to a conductor who was passing out tickets. "Excuse me, sir," she said. The man glanced over at us. "We can't seem to find our station. If you could just point us in the right direction?"

"Where d'ya want?" the man asked gruffly.

"We're looking for Platform 9 3/4," she said confidently. There was a short silence, in which I felt myself go red again at the ridiculousness of these words. The man glared at her for a moment, but then another conductor helping a frazzled looking old woman called out to him. He walked away, calling behind him, "Think yer funny, eh? Stop wastin' my time."

"Oh, dear," my mother said fretfully, checking her watch. It was ten minutes to eleven. "It's almost time for the train to leave. What are we–"

"Excuse me," a soft voice said from our right. "I couldn't help but overhear. You're looking for Platform 9 3/4?"

We all turned at the same time. Behind us stood a smiling woman, about the same age as my mother. She had golden-brown hair and hazel eyes, with a slim, friendly face and charming smile. At her side stood a boy about my age who was decidedly good-looking.

He was obviously her son. His face was like a miniature model of hers, with high cheekbones, an angled nose and an identical charming smile. In fact the only noticeable difference between them was his extremely messy black locks. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses framed his face, and her hazel eyes sparkled behind them.

"Amorina Evans," my mother said, smiling and offering her hand to the lady, who took it, also smiling. "This is my husband, Joseph Evans," my father shook hands with her as well, "and our daughter, Lily." The woman beamed down at me.

"It's a pleasure," she said. "My name is Felicity Potter. This is James." She smiled down at her son, who grinned back, and in that moment he looked like a mirror of his mother's smile, reflecting her face back up to her. "My husband, George, couldn't make it today. He's busy," here she lowered her voice slightly, "working at the ministry and all."

My parents exchanged a blank look. Comprehension lit up Mrs. Potter's face. "Oh, but that's right. Of course. You see," at this point she began guiding my parents in the direction of a far-off station, "in the wizarding community, there's a whole system of..."

James and I followed a few steps behind them. He was watching me, I realized, and right as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable he spoke.

"So I guess you're a muggle-born then, huh?" I was entirely bewildered.

"A–a what, sorry?"

"Muggle-born. It means you're parents aren't wizards."

"Oh well, I guess I am then," I replied, still a little baffled. A sudden worry gripped me. "Is that all right? I mean, is it bad to be muggle-born? Will I be the only one?" James flashed that irresistible grin at me reassuringly.

"Don't worry; there will be plenty of others there."

I relaxed. "Are you a muggle-born?" I asked. He started, and then looked at me like I had insulted him.

"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed. "You just said it wasn't a bad thing."

"Well I know but it's just–no, I'm not." I glared at him suspiciously. As much as he had said about it being fine to be muggle-born, he had seemed a little too defensive at the suggestion of him being one.

"Lily! James!" Mrs. Potter called. She was standing at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. "Hurry up, guys, we don't have much time!"

I set out towards her at a run, my trunk clattering along behind me. Seconds later James and I were at her side, wheezing slightly, staring blankly at the solid wall in front of us. Or at least, I was. James was coolly surveying the crowds, edging towards the wall. Mrs. Potter was talking nonchalantly with him, glancing around as she too moved towards the barrier. Just as I was about to call out a warning, sure they were going to bonk into the bricks, Mrs. Potter turned to me. She winked, and suddenly both she and her son were gone.

I gasped. My parents looked stunned as well. I turned to them in awe, and tried to swallow the growing nervousness that was engulfing me. This was all a huge mistake. I couldn't do magic! Sure, I had made little things happen when I wanted them to, but walking through walls? What if I couldn't get through the barrier? What if this was all some terrible mistake? Would I get to school only to be told that I was not actually a witch and had to leave?

"Hun," my father said softly, "you'd better go too." I looked up at the clock. In five minutes the train would leave. Breathing deeply, I turned to my parents and gave them a shaky smile. My father hugged me tightly and planted a kiss on my cheek. Bending down, my mother did the same. Her tears made me feel like crying as well.

"Now remember, dear, if there's anything you need—anything at all—just write to us and we'll send it along with Athena."

"Bye Mum. Bye Dad," I called, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Then, feeling terrified, I began to walk quickly, straight at the barrier. As I sprinted towards it, the wall was beginning to look more and more dauntingly solid. When I was inches from it, I squeezed my eyes closed, preparing for the impact—

But no impact came.

Tentatively, I opened one eye. Instantly both eyes flew open wider than they had ever gone. Directly in front of me was an enormous scarlet engine. All around a horde of children, some my age, some older, were bustling about. Several were clutching cats tightly in their arms, and I even saw a few toads upon their owner's shoulders. However, almost every student seemed to be pushing a cage with an owl atop it. Laughter and shouts mingled in the warm summer breeze, on top of the anxious murmurings of parents shoving last minute supplies into their children's trunks or giving warnings about behavior.

Someone was chuckling beside me. I looked around. It was James.

"What are you laughing at?" I asked crossly, though not as crossly as I might have, still in amazement of this place.

"Your face as you came out of the barrier," he snickered, a little too cruelly in my opinion. "You looked like you were expecting someone to attack you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I was a bit nervous!" I shot back. "I'm sure when people disappear into walls without telling you they were going to and then expect you to do the same, you aren't scared at all!"

"No, not really," James said casually, examining his nails in an indifferent manner.

"Idiot," I spat, rolling my eyes and turning away from him into the mass of people.

Had I turned around at that moment, I might have caught glimpse of his slightly hurt face gazing at the back of my head as if seeing an angel for the first time, a sight which probably would have made my dealings with James Potter considerably easier over our school time together. But I didn't, and I was in for one hell of seven years.

It's me again. How do you like it so far? You can tell me…by leaving a nice long review! Any plot suggestions are welcome, although I may not take them. By the way, flames are fine with me, as long as you give me some relevant advice instead of just swearing at me. (Saying this is the worst story you have ever read is not relevant advice!) So pretty please, review and I will love you forever!

The Phoenix Queen