Since I was eleven, I could technically go to Hogwarts. The more I think about it, the more I'm certain. I got a letter. They actually wanted me there. But the Dursleys hid it from me. Which makes my story a lot more complicated.
My first task was getting there, which would be hard, because I didn't have a car. Or a magic train. Or a flying animal. Or a broom. So, my options were either to stay here and be the good girl, or go by foot.
Guess which one I picked?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I started out bright and early one morning, while the Dursleys were all asleep. That's not saying much, because they usually don't get up until mid-morning. I headed for King's Cross Station, only a good 40 minute walk from my house.
There, I headed for Platform 9 ¾. Except I kept getting lost. I asked a man in a uniform if he could help me. "Sure." He said. "Where you headed?" I told him. He walked away.
I don't think he'll help me.
So, I continued to walk. Past the ticket counter. Past baggage check. And there. Platform 1. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. That's it. No 9 ¾. So now what?
I sat down on the floor and started to cry. Hey, don't judge. I felt sooooo alone. I could feel people staring at me. But they wouldn't come and comfort me. Jerks.
"There there, don't cry. It'll be alright." I looked up. Staring down at me was a man with brown hair and the starting of a beard. He had icy blue eyes and a comforting smile. He was wearing black robes. Wizard robes. I recognized them from Harry.
I instantly stopped crying. "You're a wizard, aren't you? I need to get to Hogwarts." The man looked slightly taken aback. Out of all the things I could've said, I don't think he was expecting that.
"Who the heck are you?"
"I'm Aryn. And you?"
"My name is David."
