5:00

I didn't know why I was up so early. I had slept peacefully, unlike many other nights, and the sun had yet to break the horizon. It was five in the morning, a few hours before I was supposed to be up to catch the train, but my mind was racing.

My body, however, resisted movement for a few seconds. I stretched, my fingertips grazing my head board before I sat up, yawning loudly. I swung my body around, the bruise on my left hip protesting for a moment, and stood, making my way to my en suite bathroom.

5:10

Sometime during the night, I had given myself another bright purple bruise, this time on my collar bone. It clashed with my pale skin and stood out more than it probably would on a normal person's body.

Simple fix. My eyes roll back into my head. I let my mind turn off. My breathing slowed. To anyone who walked in, I was a corpse.

I blinked. My skin tone was how I'd normally wear it to cover up blemishes- a light olive with copper tones. It wasn't too dark that I looked Hispanic or Italian, but it gave me somewhat of a sun-kissed glow. My hair was a hot auburn with layers of blonde skimming the surface. It wasn't what I usually wear, but I was feeling adventurous, so why not?

I had slept in my outfit for the day, which surprisingly had not led to any major wrinkles. I was looking presentable, for once. There were three months between the end of school and the start of it, so I had had no obvious need to look nice if I never left my room. My social life wasn't one for the books either, in fact, an author probably wouldn't even put it in the index. I had a total of two friends, and only one would say the same about me.

5:30

My mother wasn't up yet, but Ralph sure was. The pygmy owl only sleeps when I sleep apparently, which is odd considering he's nocturnal. He was caged in our spare bedroom down the hall, away from both my mother's room and mine to optimize the quiet. Currently, however, he was making enough noise to wake up half the neighborhood.

"Quit bashing your head in Ralph, blimme." The bird squawked at me and attempted to peck his way through the cage door, which worked somewhat since he was so small.

"I'd hate to see you get a bruise on that beautiful beak of yours" He only pecked harder. I sighed; might as well keep him busy- he was going to be caged up for half a day anyway.

I undid the clasp, fighting through numerous pecks, and opened the door. Ralph was startled for a moment that he had managed to free himself so early in the morning, then he flew onto my shoulder and pecked my ear.

"Oi! Don't you have something over there you can destroy that won't harm my hearing?" I motioned to what I liked to call Ralph's Corner, complete with half-eaten barbies, several chunks of missing wall, and a collection of pristine stuffed rats. Somehow he finds the rats soothing instead of provoking and cherishes them like a collection of diamonds.

He took the bait, flew over, and preceded to tear off Babysitter Barbie's head.

7:00

My mother was up now. Maybe I should have put Ralph away sooner.

8:30 My Mom and I had left a few minutes early, and by a few minutes, I mean at least half an hour early. Ralph's usual car ride squawking was inhibited by a large, black sheet my mother had torn from a spare bed and tied around the bars of his cage. My trunk had been shoved haphazardly into the space directly next to my owl's cage, so much so that I was worried what would happen if we were to take too sharp of a turn.

My Mother had not spoken a word since we had left the house. Her pointed face, nearly as pale as mine tended to be, stared straight ahead, her dark eyes only leaving the road to check her mirrors. I could tell she was refraining from checking her left mirror in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with me.

We tended to do this quite often, my Mom and I. The day I left for school, she would find some reason to start a fight with me, and while it was quite awful to be a part of while it was happening, it sure did make leaving a whole lot easier. Today, it was about Ralph being out of his cage too early in the morning and making a ruckus, to which my mother threatened to throw him out for the wolves to feed on. Last year, it was about the way I dressed, being that it should be for "a simple train ride, not a slut show". The year before that, well, let's just say she brought up my father too many times to count.

My headache from the day before had come back. Pro tip: don't yell before 9, it may give you an aneurysm. The bruise on my hip was throbbing, but I had packed a bag of ice to sooth in during the drive. It wouldn't last the entire car ride, but at least the seats on the train were comfortable to some extent.

I had a funk about using magic to sooth my injuries. When I was seven, I was diagnosed with Hemophilia (by someone who was not a wizard doctor, mind you), which seemed to be a result of my ability to shift. Only Gus, my mom, and Madame Pomfrey knew about it, and the only reason Madame Pomfrey found out was because she had attempted to soothe a quidditch injury with magic. See, healing spells are meant to work on normal bodies- they're supposed to heal a cut by closing the skin, heal a bruise by closing the vessel, and any kid with Hemophilia would be fine doing it to themselves. But I learned the hard way that magically healed injuries are slightly weaker than normally healed injuries that form stronger than they were before. Shifting while having a weak vessel could open it up all over again, then I wouldn't know until it was too late.

10:20 My Mother decided to say goodbye to me from the car today.

10:45

There was a stark difference between the muggles and the wizards, but not one you'd think. The wizards, of course, looked suspicious and some walked with dignity, but so did the muggles. Each one attempted to seem more important than his peer or keep his motives under the radar. The wizards and the muggles blended in.

Except for one detail. The muggles noticed nothing and the wizards noticed everything. The muggles let each have their own: wearing a hat from decades ago, so be it. Pet toucans perched on a trolley, why not. Wearing a cape, it's a statement. The wizards, however, seemed to be focused on doing everything to ensure their cover isn't blown: No Ravenclaw tie today, it's too much of a statement. Carry your frog in your pocket, no one would expect it. Make eye contact, you won't look suspicious. In all honesty, the wizards looked more like muggles than the muggles did.

I had been people watching on a bench outside Platform 8 for around twenty minutes before he arrived, dressed in bright colors as always. His pale skin enunciated the silver scar down his left shoulder, as well as his bright, turquoise eyes and head of shaggy, blond hair. He didn't notice me at first, as my hair was a few shades darker than he probably remembered it. What caught his attention were my eyes, which haven't changes in over a decade.

"Nancy!" Augustine exclaimed, rushing me like an American football player. His family, whom he had been holding a conversation with moments before, looked quite startled as Gus next to tackled my fragile, barely 100-pound body.

"Gus! I've missed you so much!" I'd known Gus since the fourth year, the year I moved to England. He was the first acquaintance I'd ever had since I lived in Ireland.

"Let me get a good look at you Nance" He set his hands on my shoulders and gave me a once over. "Ooh, I like the hair; feisty but still gives a natural look. Eyes are beautiful as always, silver really goes with any skin tone, and-" Gus paused, eyes trailing over what I thought was my invisible bruised neckline.

"It's nothing, Augustine. I just slept funny again." I said with my voice lowered, my hand unconsciously scratching my hip.

Gus bit his lip for a moment, holding eye contact until he seemed to get the answer he was looking for, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and breaking into a wide grin. "Well this train isn't gonna board itself, is it?"