Chapter Four: The Hogwarts Express

A weak ray of sunshine woke me up the following morning. Judging by the position of the sun, I calculated it was just a few minutes after six. I glanced at Ginny: she was still sleeping, grasping her pillow tightly. I put on my school shoes and went to the bathroom. As I hadn't brought my brush and paste to clean my teeth, I looked up a spell that could do the same thing. When I had found it, I tried it and my mouth felt so clean it was as though I had just left the dentist's office.

Not even Mrs. Weasley had woken up, and I was not going to sleep anymore, so I grabbed the encyclopaedia and began reading. Minutes went by unnoticed as I read about charms and spells. . . There were so much of them! At least some of the spells' words were very similar to Spanish words I used daily — at least back in Puerto Rico. This was good because I could easily memorize them. Other spells I already knew because they had been mentioned on the Harry Potter books. I need to learn this fast! I thought, I'm going right into fourth year — people expect me to know a great deal of magic. Pages full of explanations. . . Expelliarmus — the disarming spell; Tergeo — the cleaning spell; Expecto Patronum — fends off dementors by unleashing power in the form of an animal that varies with the witch or wizard. . . I wondered what my patronus was shaped like. . . Everything went black for some time — perhaps just a minute, until —

"Susanna, Susanna!" someone was whispering. That same person was shaking me gently. It had to be mum, but it was strange, because she never shook me to wake me up.

"Is it 6:30 already, mum?" I asked. I opened my eyes; everything was blurry, black and white. "Oh no, am I going blind?"

"That's because your face is against a book, dear," she said, helping me get up. I had forgotten everything about yesterday. Of course! I was at the Burrow! Then it hadn't been a dream, huh? Spellbinding!

"I didn't want to wake you up earlier, not after that long journey!" Mrs. Weasley said, closing the encyclopaedia and placing it on top of the end table. "You must be exhausted!" she said sympathetically.

"Where's Ginny?" I asked, noticing she wasn't on the bed in the opposite side.

"Arthur's taking the kids for some last-minute shopping. You know — quills, ink bottles, parchment. . ." she said, waving her hands. "But it's almost ten o'clock, you should eat something and then I'll take you to King's Cross, alright?"

"Okay, Mrs. Weasley," I said, standing up and grabbing my witch robes and preparing to dress up.

"Good girl — I'll be downstairs making breakfast, then," and she scuttled toward the kitchen, one floor below.

After putting on the robes, I had a delicious omelette that tasted better than the ones I ate at home. It's the hen, I assured myself. A British hen put this egg, that's why it tastes different. Mum can absolutely cook as good as Mrs. Weasley, I thought. After the omelette, Mrs. Weasley gave me a chocolate-chip cookie. It was very tasty, but still not as delectable as the ones my English teacher baked. After completing breakfast with a glass of pumpkin juice, Mrs. Weasley said, "Arthur and the others have your things, Susanna, so you just have to worry about yourself, alright?" I nodded. "Well, then let's — "

And in that moment, an owl came zooming from outside — it was heading toward the kitchen window. Mrs. Weasley muttered something like 'Dora'.The problem was that it was closed. I knew what was going to happen — the Windex commercial all over again! It was getting closer now, and Mrs. Weasley had not noticed the window — or else she didn't know what to do.

The owl was now so close I wondered if I had time to do something. Open the window, you idiot!, said one Susanna. But I didn't remember the spell that opened things! I didn't know if it was something like Aperto or — 'You idle idiot! Use your hands! You don't have to depend on your wand! You were a muggle before this!' Right! I ran toward the window as fast as I could — the owl was feet from the window — I was feet from the window. I was looking for the place where the window opened — where is it? It was no time to ask Mrs. Weasley, I took out my wand, hopeful that my mind would not betray me, and pointing it at the window — the owl a metre away — cried "Aperto!"

The window burst open at once, and a millisecond after I began brushing the sweat off my forehead with the back of my right hand, the owl collided — with me. I was thrown back some feet, which made me lose balance and fall to the floor. There were owl feathers all over the place.

"Oh dear, maybe it would have been better if you just had left the window as it was," Mrs. Weasley said pitifully. She hurried toward me to help me straighten.

My head hurt where the owl had crashed with me. "Well, at least look at the bright side, Mrs. Weasley — I remembered a spell!"

"Yes, well, let me look at this," Mrs. Weasley took the letter from the owl and read to herself. When she finished she said, "It's Arthur's sister, Dora, she wants me to go help her with her garden. Her daughter's getting married tomorrow and she wants it all neat and clean. How nice," but the sarcasm was clearly notable; she didn't get along well with her sister-in-law. I then understood why hadn't she prevented the owl from crashing — it was Dora's. She sighed deeply and yelled, "George, get up! You have to go to King's Cross Station with Susanna!"

"Wasn't George with the rest?" I asked, rhetorically.

"Can't you see I'm here?" George said, at the top of the flight of stairs, dressed in robes that had the word Expelliarmus written all over it, with little wands of different colours scattered across it. "I mean, it's obvious unless I could be at two places at the same time, which I obviously can't."

Mrs. Weasley grinned. "That's why I love my son — he has such a great sense of humour."

"And that is why I love mum so much — she loves my sense of humour," George put an arm around his mother.

"But that sense of humour," continued Mrs. Weasley, pulling George's arm out of her shoulder. "Is what sometimes brings trouble to this house." George blushed slightly. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a garden to tidy up. George — you know what's your mission."

"Yeah, mum," he said, yawning. "C'mon, Sue." I grabbed Firetail and made sure I had my wand and encyclopaedia with me before following George.

Hardly two minutes later, we were at King's Cross Station, staring at a brick column that separated two platforms. "I'm afraid we'll have to take the long way, Susanna," said George, staring at the column between platforms nine and ten. He was carrying my snowy owl. I nodded, yet I didn't know what the short way was. You couldn't possibly Apparate inside Hogwarts, if that's what George considered 'the short way'.

"That's all right, I'll have plenty of time to — " I was a bit too overexcited because my mouth was about to burst, 'to get to know Harry'. Why was I about to say this? Was Harry aboard the train or was he not? Was he taking the long way or the short way? For the second time in the day, I closed my mouth and began looking for words that would fit right after the phrase. "— to ask Ron about chess. . ."

"Oh, you can ask him," said George looking around. "He's going the long way, too."

"Oh, great!" I said, trying to sound excited, something I actually managed because if Ron took the long way, then Harry would take it too; at least that was what I was hoping for.

"Know how this goes, right?" asked George looking at me.

"I — think so. . ." I said before I closed my eyes, sighed and prepared my mind to what was about to come. Then I was interrupted.

"Oh, no, right! Hee, hee! Forgot you were a muggle!" George said. I became impatient and sighed deeply. George cleared his throat. "You run straight between platforms nine and ten. Don't panic, I know that face," but I was sure my face was completely relaxed. "You're not going to crash. It's not a brick wall — it's bewitched. . .It's like a fluffy wall. Imagine it's a big, fluffy, nice little wall." But the image of a big fluffy little wall was simply amusing. I had never ever heard the word 'fluffy' and 'wall' next to each other, perhaps not even in the same sentence together. The same was true about big and little, referring to the same object.

"Ready?" said George, while I nodded. We began walking towards the column and before I could say Quidditch, I was looking at a large smoking train, people nearby trying to get aboard it. My heart forced me to a smile as I approached the train. I saw Neville, Seamus, Ron and other Hogwarts students, but no sign of Harry. "Was Harry going to travel by the flying car along with Fred? Was that the short way? That couldn't be, that's illegal; they're underage wizards. Besides, if the Ministry hears about it, they could be expelled; Muggles can see them if they get to look at the sky. Wait a minute. . . They flung to my school in the flying car. Why can't they fly to Hogwarts then? How did they travel without being seen? Or did someone see them? Have they repaired the invisibility booster? Anyway, the Ministry should let them, they know what they are doing," I thought to myself, eager to ask someone these unanswerable-at-the-moment questions.

Suddenly, I realized George was shouting something at me, but it was as though my feet had grown roots, my ears had shut and my eyes had closed during the time I was thinking whether Harry was travelling by rails or air; I was still standing on the same spot, but George had walked a bit further as he hadn't noticed I wasn't following him. He continued to shout at me but I didn't know what was he trying to tell me, I didn't hear; I was staring at him brainlessly. Then, George approached me, and a pat in the shoulder was enough to bring me back to my senses.

"Susanna!" George said with a stormy look on his face, "The train!"

"Huh?" I took a look at the clock: It was one to eleven. I didn't wait a second more; I ran toward the nearest entrance to the train and, not long after George and I had stepped into the train, it began its journey. George closed the door and we started looking for seats. Again, my heart gave a tickling sensation when I thought about what may come when we arrive to Hogwarts. I almost couldn't believe it. And it wasn't until this moment that I began wondering why Dumbledore would want me in this school. "Why me? Can it occur that I actually have magical talent?" I requested myself. And now, it came to me — mum. I began worrying about her because she'd probably be worried about me too.

"Petrified, you were, back there. I was afraid you might have been Confunded," he said. Finally, George found an empty compartment for us to seat. "Brought you your owl, by the way . . ." he said, lifting my pet's cage. He put a finger through the bars and said, in a voice most people talk to babies, "Aren't you a cute adorable little creat — !" If George had waited a second more to retrieve his finger, my owl would have probably torn his finger out. I chuckled. George instantly put him in the corner at my left side and whispered, "You stay with Susanna, now, okay?"

"Yes, I noticed . . . Thank you very much. But, George," I said in a cheerless tone, "My mum — she doesn't know —"

"Oh, worry not about her; she'll be fine," he said, opening the compartment door. "Moreover, Dumbledore's probably sent her an owl already. He has loads of them, y'know. . . Like the number of Bertie Bott's Beans in a box! Er — or something like that. And let's not talk about parchment — enough to make mummies out of fifty Hagrids! He's the keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts, by the way." There was a short pause in which George straightened himself and sat down with a face from which 'Who's the man?', could be read. "Gosh, I feel smart teaching you all this stuff."

I seated myself feeling slightly better but still had in mind how much she would miss me. I imagined my mum hearing the hooting sound of an owl, heading toward the porch, spotting the owl, snatching the letter in its legs, opening it and reading it aloud as she walks towards the door. She is now inside, has finished reading the letter, puts a hand over her mouth and tells my father all the story between sobs. After that, everyone would know that there is a witch in the family.

I put the encyclopaedia up in the luggage rack and returned to my seat. Then I remembered my trunk.

"George, where's my trunk?"

"Relax, Ron's bringing it with him; it's probably in the luggage rack on his compartment."

Occasionally, as the voyage went on, I would look out the window esteeming the beautiful landscape of England, a country I loved just as much as my fatherland. Seconds later, my eyes fell upon George, who was filling what seemed to be an order form. It had three big W's on the front page and a cartoon showing Fred and George, back to back with arms crossed, looking tough.

"Um, George, what's that you have there?" I asked excitedly.

"This? Well — Er — a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes catalogue," George said, going red in the face and looking extremely nervous. "But please, don't tell mum; She'll kill us if she finds out."

"Oh," I said, feeling somewhat guilty, but I knew I was bound to keep quiet. I wish I hadn't asked. No one spoke for several minutes, until —

"George!" It was Lee Jordan. He greeted George in a very odd manner. "What's up?" he said, looking excitedly at George's papers and throwing himself beside him, making me move a little in my seat.

"I'm out of Fake Wands. And Fred wouldn't give me some of his's. . ."

"Hm! And who's she?" asked Lee Jordan, finally looking at me.

"She? Well. . ." George lowered his voice, placed the order form in front of his face — so that all I could see was a bit of his ginger hair — and began whispering to Lee Jordan. I only caught words like "she" and "Harry", and I could imagine what their conversation was about. After he had finished, the both of them broke into laughs. I ignored them and looked at the owl, thinking of names that would match his appearance. I looked at the owl more closely and noticed that it had a single small reddish purple feather on the back of his tail. "How curious," I thought. It was a long time before I had a decent name to put him, until I thought of the name "Firetail", which I considered was quite appropriate, although his tail was not completely red.

"All right, I'll call you Firetail!" I said grinning at the snowy, black-spotted owl.

"Wicked!" cried out a voice not far from me. I looked at my right and saw Ron and Fred smiling broadly at us."You bought an owl! Sorry, I hadn't seen it up until now; when you two arrived I was already having my third dream."

"Yes! Isn't it cute?" I asked attempting to tickle him. I did NOT buy the owl, Harry did, you Big Fat Liar, my faithful side corrected.

"Er, sure," said Ron looking sick, and then I understood why he had such an ugly face: He had a box in his hands with beans of assorted colours.

"What's that?" I asked unnecessarily, as I knew what it was, pointing at the small box he was holding.

"These are Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans — " said Ron, placing a hand over his mouth. Apparently, Ron was about to throw up.

"A risk — " said Fred, stopping when Ron hurried to the window, coughing.

"Eew, disgusting," he said, looking better than he had appeared before.

" — with every mouthful," continued Fred, smirking at him.

"And they literally mean every flavour," said George, hiding his papers in his back. "Don't eat them all in one gulp, or you could be risking your tongue's life."

"Wanna try some?" asked Ron.

I stood there, looking at the box; everybody was looking at me as though waiting for me to do something. Their eager look ceased when I said, "All right," and they all uttered a sigh of alleviation. I approached Ron and looked at the box to choose one that was not green.

"Don't trust the colours!" said Fred. "I once ate a red one that tasted like raw meat."

'At least that's better than vomit flavour,' I thought. "Then which one am I supposed to pick out?" I asked.

"The solution is simple: Close your eyes and pick the one your hand desires!"

I put my hand over the box, looked at the rusty ceiling and pulled out a bean. I looked at it: it was dreadfully green. I slowly brought it to my mouth (everybody had their eyes fixed on the bean), chewed it until I experienced its flavour. Now everyone had eyes so big that it seemed that they were going to detach from the face.

"Mm! Mint!" I said gushily, while Fred, George and Lee Jordan all threw me a look of deep disappointment. They, unmistakably, had expected me to eat a bogey-flavoured one or other of such kind.

"Lucky you," said Ron joyfully. "The first time I tried them. . . Well — let's just say that I couldn't go see the Chudley Cannons at their match against Germany's team. . . ."

"And that is saying something," said Fred. "Ron loves them. . . He'll be marrying them really soon."

"Really horrible that day, wasn't — " said George.

"Shut up — Don't make me call it back," said Ron.

"He couldn't get out of the bathroom. . ."

"He nearly got mum call the Ministry. . ."

"August the second of 1988, I remember it just as if it were yesterday. . ."

"Oh poor Ronnie, bad day he had; didn't you, Ron?"

"Shut up!"

"Oh, you don't want to remember it, do you?"

"Was it liver or spinach?"

"Let's leave him alone. . ." said Lee Jordan. "You two have already annoyed him enough for years . . . It's not that he doesn't deserve it," he said, naturally; I glared at him; Lee got somewhat scared and said, "Well, he doesn't deserve it, to be honest."

"Lee, is that you? Your behaviour is — strange. Wasn't it you who suggested that prank on Ron last year? The one that involved his underwear?" George asked. Ron blushed while Lee looked offended. "Hm. . . But I guess you're right, let's leave it there so that Ron can get a good day's sleep before arriving," he said. Fred nodded looking scandalized, muttered "Where's your spirit, Lee?" and took a seat between George and Lee Jordan. Ron did the same, sitting at my left.

"Anyway," said Ron, "The silly ones aren't bad after all, after you get the hang of it. Do you want to try another one?" Yeah, not bad — he almost threw up!

"No thanks," I said, because I knew I would have been exposing myself to danger; a possibility of undergoing Ron's experience.

"Well, you said so. . ."

It was strange that Harry was not near Ron; they're very good friends. "Um, Ron, I was think — I just wondered — Where's Harry?"

"Huh? Harry? Oh, he's over there helping Neville."

"What happened?"

"Well, from what I heard, he was trying a spell on his left hand to clean it from toad droppings — from — wouldn't y'know it — Trevor — and all he managed to do was to worsen the thing: he accidentally multiplied the amount of droppings — And that's not all, the droppings won't come off. Hermione's tried a few times and they're still pasted on to his hand."

"Poor Neville. . ." said Fred woefully, although the fake tone was clearly notable. "He always gets into trouble."

"We believe it's nature's ways . . . His fate — his destiny — his wyrd is to get into trouble. And we have to respect that," said George, placing his right hand in his chest.

"Maybe I'll just go and see if I can help. . ." I said, leaping to my feet. I was heading toward the compartment door but stopped dead when I saw that it was blocked.

"Oh really, a Muggle like you?" It was Malfoy. He had come into view along with Crabbe, Goyle and other Slytherin students. "So, we meet again. Father told me you weren't a witch; he's got loads of people at the Ministry who inform him, see, but I already knew from this morning that you were another of them, Mudblood." Several students in nearby compartments gasped.

"Leave her alone and shut up, Malfoy, you've got no reason to annoy her." It was Harry's voice, quivering a little; he had left his seat to see what was going on. Although I could not see his face due to Crabbe and Goyle's massive bodies, his voice was clearly audible and evident. I could almost hear, distantly, the Indiana Jones theme song.

"Look everyone! Potter's defending a Muggle! We purebloods don't do that, you know? And neither should you," said Malfoy, looking at Harry as if he were an insignificant and disgusting bug, while the Slytherins laughed.

"Ah, Malfoy. . . Maybe it's time for you to think in another way of bothering people," said Ron noticing that I was blushing slightly. "That method of yours is starting to grow a grey beard."

"Maybe it's time for you to start thinking in a jinx that will make me do what you please, Weasel-Bee, because I won't listen to you. And I doubt there is one, so you should better save your words."

"Oh yeah?! I'll show him," Ron was saying through clenched teeth. He pulled out his wand and I had to stop him. 'Not the Imperius Curse!' I thought. No, it couldn't be; he was probably going to try Stupefy or something like that. Anyway, I simply had to stop him from using his wand.

"Ron, no!" I said, grabbing his arm and lowering it gently. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts! Remember? You could be expelled!"

"Uh, right. . ." said Ron putting the wand back inside his robes, his ears turning red.

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the Slytherins were all sniggering and, tired of our blank expressions, resigned to take on the theme.

"See you, then, redhead," Malfoy said before returning to his seat, Crabbe, Goyle and the rest following him. I looked away from them and noticed an odd bug crawling by the window.

"Oh no!!!" I said, when I saw that the bug had a small pearl-like pattern around the eyes.

"What?" said Ron along with something that resembled a yawn.

"Rita Skeeter!"

"Huh?! How d'you —"

"She's here! Rita Skeeter's here! Bugging us! Literally!"

And without further ado I got to my feet and scuttled toward the fancy bug, but too late — she had flown away.

"UGH!" I said. "That annoying pest is going to tattle about all this!"

"At least she's stopped bothering Hermion — Ooh, never mind," added Ron hastily and he went as scarlet as a tomato.

I threw myself in the seat and began sweating slightly. It wasn't until Harry talked that I noticed that he was still there, exchanging significant looks with Ron.

"W — well, we'll see — see you at the feast!" said Harry. Then he added, " — everyone."

My expression was so drastic and possibly so strange that I wondered whether Harry considered it normal or not. I was not looking at him, but I knew that he was looking at me. Something told me that he was smiling, so I smiled back at him. Then, curiosity forced me to look, and when I did, he turned on his heels and all I could see was his back. Again, I had encountered myself with the most beautiful face in the world and had been unable to withstand the positive consequences of it; in other words, I haven't been able to look at his face. I was still smiling when Lee Jordan bursted out a range of words that woke my brain once again.

"So, first thing tomorrow — Potter's Secret Love — Headline News for the Prophet, eh?"

Everyone exploded with laughs including Firetail, who was making a racket with the bars of the cage by him. I, on the other side, was looking blankly at the door. For the third time in two days, I remained silent because I didn't know what to say. Discussing someone like Harry wasn't really the thing I would've done in front of a bunch of people, more likely, in front of four boys.

"So, it's true?! You do like Harry, then?" said Ron grinning. "Believe me, you'll have to fight for him! You're not the only one who's up for him! Won't be easy. . . Ginny — Myrtle — Cho — Romilda [... Blimey, I wish I had that number of admirers. . ."

For a moment I thought I had in front of me four of the people I could rest my confidence in, but the next words ruined it all.

" 'Course she likes Harry! She confessed it all! She told me in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions! In the name of Albus Dumbledore!" said George, destroying my pacific temper. 'And he just had to say it now!'

"Merlin's beard! Is that true?" said Lee Jordan.

"What?!" I snapped. "I didn't — That's rubbish! I didn't say that! He wants to bother me, that's what!"

"Right. . ." said George trying to convince the others that the one who was speaking the truth was himself.

"I swear it! In front of — er — THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC!" I was out of control!

"Ok, Susanna, we believe you; you don't have to make such a fuss ab —"

"But you can't deny that you like him, do you?! DO YOU?!" said George, his voice rising higher and higher.

And, like a light in the darkness it came: the lady with the food trolley was offering us candies, saying, "Chocolate frogs, dears?". Thanks to her, now I was breathing normally.

"Oh, yeah, me!" said Ron, and he began searching his robes, undoubtedly for money. He bought five packs of beans, three boxes of pumpkin dragons, a pack of long-lasting worm gum and two chocolate frogs. To my great luck, the lady had swept off all of the boys' thoughts about me and Harry, and now I could relax for the rest of the trip.

"What's that?" asked Ron, observing that George had a magazine in his hand, which was the order form I had asked him about earlier.

"Business," said Fred and George at the same time.

"And keep you big nose out of it, will you?" said Lee.