VI. THE ORIENT EXPRESS
That morning, September 1st, I was up before my alarm-which, trust me, was a right shock. I never get up before I have to(and sometimes not even then). I was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, still in my pyjamas with my red hair messily piled on top of my head and my nose in my potions textbook.
I've already read it, twice, but I couldn't help but flick through it again. The idea of brewing potions was fascinating to me. Ever since Diagon Alley, I've been pouring over the books I got in Flourish and Blotts. I hate to admit it, but the clerk was right about some of the books I picked out being a bit too advanced for me-but that didn't mean I didn't read them cover to cover like I did my class books, even if it meant keeping a dictionary at the ready and doing internet searches at the library until I understood the basis of numerology. The first time I re-read A New History of Numerology by Lukas Karuzos and understood it, at least better than I did, I felt...accomplished.
I was focusing more on my school textbooks, and Quidditch Through the Ages, than the books I bought when I separated from Harry and Hagrid(I think 'Hairy Snout Human Heart' is about werewolves-I swear I jinxed them into existence). I figure I can work on deciphering them in my downtime at Hogwarts.
I know, I sound like a total overachieving nerd, but that isn't it, really. It isn't like I love school, or anything-not that I hate it, either. I just love to read. I slack off a lot in class, almost never do my homework, and I'm pretty sure Miss Othmar had it out for me-but I've practically lived in libraries ever since I was five and my teacher told me we were allowed to spend our lunch hour in the school library. Ms Dodds thinks reading is a coping mechanism, an escape, that I picked up during my time in the system-and, in this and only this, she's probably right. Lately, the only things keeping me from diving into my piles of new, magic books and not resurfacing for days after were soccer practice(and, even then, I sometimes purposefully got myself penalties so I could read on the bench), my appointments with Ms Dodds(I'm not allowed to have a book anywhere near me at her office, even in the waiting room), and-well, Harry.
Over the past week, that weirdness had finally started to ebb.
In fact, ever since we had our movie marathon in the living room after my obligatory therapy session-which we spent throwing popcorn into each other's mouths and talking about random crap, we've been tied at the hip.
We even went bowling two days before September 1st-and discovered that we both equally suck.
It was a bit of a bonding moment.
Especially when I threw my ball backwards and almost killed a lady.
Is it wrong to bond over something like that?
Meh.
I don't know exactly how it happened.
How we went from being all cautious and awkward with each other to acting like we'd always known each other-like we weren't complete strangers a month ago. Not that I'm complaining or anything. It's...nice.
When we stopped trying to force it, stopped thinking so damn much, everything just sort of clicked on its own.
At five-thirty, waking up ridiculously early himself, Harry joined me.
Seeing the time, we grabbed a bowl of cereal each and set up in the living room-Harry on the navy blue couch watching cartoons, because screw the Dursleys, while I laid on my stomach on the patterned carpet reading.
"-Jewel?!" a groggy-sounding Alistair exclaimed at about seven-ish when he heard the TV, wandered downstairs, and saw me awake.
Quickly finishing the sentence I was on, I put my thumb on the page and looked up.
Alistair was dumbstruck.
"'Mornin', Sleepy-" I teased smugly, "kettles on the stove ready to be boiled, milk in the fridge, cups on the bench with the tea bags, coffee, and sugar already in them."
He just kept staring at me.
"Goodmorning, Mr Morrissey," Harry greeted, looking up from the TV.
"Yeah, yeah, morning kid-why is your sister alive?"
The salt-and-pepper blonde was waving his hands at me, trying to come to terms with what he was seeing-and failing.
After living in the same house as me for two weeks, Alistair's reaction didn't surprise Harry.
In fact, he was just as shocked when he saw me this morning.
"Well, Ali, darling, when a mummy and daddy love each other very much-" I began mockingly, "or when they don't-or when two people meet in a bar and get smashed-they-"
"Okay, so you sound like yourself..." Alistair mused, making his way over and slowly dropping down onto the floor beside me. "Did Harry wake you up?" he guessed.
"She was up before me," Harry admitted.
"She was-?!"
Alistair didn't seem to be able to comprehend the idea.
"Oh, shut it," I said with an eye roll, "it's September 1st-I can't believe I'm about to say this, but sleep can wait."
"You love sleep-" Alistair said blankly, "you once said sleep was your soulmate."
"I was asleep when I said that," I quipped.
On the TV, the Scooby-Doo gang were being chased about by the Creeper.
"Like, who do you think we're running from, this baby chick?"
"So, what're you on today? Charms?" Alistair asked as he shook off his surprise, putting it down as magic school nerves and trying to get a peek at what I was reading.
"Potions," I corrected. "I finished Charms yesterday."
I handed him the book and he flipped through it curiously.
"When you get to Hogwarts, you'll need to watch her, Harry," he added as he read, "if you give her the chance, she'll pack up and move into the school library. Her therapist says it's unhealthy. It makes her get all reserved and reclusive and a bunch of other big words-"
"I'm fine," I cut in. "Ms Dodds is crazy."
"I mean, she's your therapist-"
"Maybe we're both crazy," I retorted. "Maybe we need a therapist to therapize my therapy sessions."
Alistair snorted and shot me an amused look before glancing back down.
"Sleeping potions, huh? Mind cooking me up a couple? Dakota snores."
"I do not!" Dakota said sounding offended as she made her way downstairs, catching the end of Alistair's loudly whispered remark.
Seeing me on the floor by Alistair, she stopped short in surprise.
"First off, if snoring was an Olympic sport," I stated with a slight grin on my face, "they'd invent a medal higher than gold, just for you-"
"Here, here-" Alistair agreed jokingly only to shut up when his wife glared at him.
"-and secondly, you brew a potion," I explained to Alistair, "you don't cook them."
"Looks more like a cookbook to me-or maybe chemistry," Alistair shrugged, flipping through my textbook. "Add four of this, two of that, leave to stew, mix it all together and-voilà! Eau-de-vie potion!"
He threw up his hands, grinning like the mad scientist he is.
"You do know you just said 'there it is, brandy potion', right?" I remarked.
"Well, I do now-" Alister muttered, looking at me oddly, "Wait, didn't you take Spanish?"
"I took French when I lived with the Johnson's," I informed him as I took my textbook back and smoothed a hand over the cover, "I take-or, rather, took-Italian. I still know some phrases, though, like-mon poisson a mangé mes devoirs."
"What does that mean?"
"My fish ate my homework."
Alistair snorted loudly.
"'My fish ate my homework?'" Harry repeated in disbelief.
"I'm not even surprised!" Alistair chortled.
Shaking her head at us, Dakota adjusted her sunny, silky yellow dressing gown and made her way to the kitchen-and, likely, the caffeine.
"Thanks for setting everything up, dear," she said to Alistair as she returned with a steaming cup of coffee.
"Uh-that was me," I corrected, mock pouting. "Two hours ago."
Dakota looked startled.
I rolled my eyes hugely.
"I'm not a pod person, or a changeling," I stated, "and Harry has not rubbed off on me in any way or form-this is a bribe to get you and Alistair ready by eight."
Amused, Dakota made her way over, bent down, and kissed the top of my head.
"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "Now, speaking of being ready by eight, why don't you go upstairs and have a shower? We'll have to leave here by nine at the latest-it's a two-hour drive to the station."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
"-crazy little woman in a one-man show-" Alistair and I kept belting out even after Dakota stopped the car, "mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love, sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up(loosen up), loosen up, you gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little, tease a little more, easy operator come a knockin' on my door, sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet, little miss innocent sugar me-"
"Alistair, Jewel-"
Dakota looked at us sternly, opening her door.
Harry was already on the sidewalk.
Glancing at each other, Alistair and I smirked and slid out of the car in unison. Alistair helped Dakota load up mine and Harry's trunks and owls onto baggage carts and, to Harry's surprise, took Harry's for him while Dakota pushed mine.
Then, the second we stepped into King's Cross station-
"Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love, pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up, pour some sugar on me, oh, I can't get enough-!"
"Alistair! Jewel!" Dakota exclaimed incredulously.
Harry looked torn between laughing and pretending to not know us.
"Come on-it's Def Leppard!" Alistair grinned.
"I don't think she cares," I informed him seeing the look she was giving us.
"I love you?" Alistair offered.
"More than Def Leppard?" Dakota remarked dryly.
"Well, I mean, let's not get hasty here-"
I sniggered, grinning at Harry as they bickered like the old married couple they were.
Rolling to a stop by the pillars of nine and ten, we were faced with a glaring dilemma.
There wasn't a Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Dakota and Alister double-checked both mine and Harry's tickets.
"Do you think they were mislabeled?" Dakota asked her husband, eyebrows furrowing.
Harry was starting to look more and more anxious as he glanced at the clock on the wall for the third time in the last thirty seconds.
"You know," I remarked, looking around the station critically, "wizards are a mad bunch-they probably hid the platform somehow. I mean, it'd be pretty bad if random Muggles accidentally boarded the Hogwarts Express. Hagrid probably just forgot to mention it."
"But if we don't know where it's hidden," Harry said nervously, "how are we supposed to find it?"
"There doesn't seem to be any instructions on here..." Dakota murmured as she scanned every inch of our tickets. "You'd think they'd at least leave a note or something-"
I checked my watch to see we had just over twenty minutes until the train left.
"Maybe we should owl Dumbledore?" Alistair suggested, glancing at Hedwig and Illyius.
"Maybe we should go all Terminator on their asses-" I said, perking up and adding, in a not half bad I thought impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger, "take me to your platform."
Harry looked at me like he thought I might be a little bit mental.
"What? Wizard madness-it's hereditary," I warned jokingly, wriggling my eyebrows.
I nudged him and he shoved me back playfully and snorted.
"As amazing as that sounds," Alistair said, pointing at me with a slight grin, "I don't think doing the Terminator is going to help us here, Bones."
"Wanna bet?"
Alistair smirked.
Ten minutes later, Dakota was dealing with security after Alistair tried to ask for directions to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters while acting like the Terminator.
The guard thought he was a nutter.
Alistair said, "I'll be back."
The guard thought, 'I'll call security'.
After they understood that Alistair was joking, and that we'd made a bet while Dakota wasn't paying attention-and are children in her words, the security guards left Alistair alone. It helped that we pretended 'Platform Nine and Three-Quarters' was part of the joke that nobody else but me and Alistair, and a bit Harry, seemed to get. Seeing how annoyed the first guard was that we'd wasted his time-and weren't thrown out for being disruptive and crazy, we steered clear of him. We were just heading back towards the nine and ten pillars, collective anxiety steadily rising as we wondered what the hell we were supposed to do, when Harry suddenly stopped and grabbed my arm.
"What're you-?"
Following his gaze to a redheaded family making their way through the station, and seeing their trunks-and the owl in one of the older boys' carts, I stopped short.
"If we ask them about the platform and have to deal with security thinking we're nutters again," I warned mock seriously, "I'ma sic Illyius on your ass."
Harry glanced over at my owl warily but, seeing Dakota and Alistair talking quietly as they looked over our tickets again, grabbed my arm and dragged me after the family.
"Now, what's the platform number?" the mother(or the kidnapper-I don't know these kids' situations), a plump redheaded woman, double-checked.
"Nine and three-quarters!" a small freckled ginger girl with bright brown eyes piped up, her hand gripping her probably mother's and her face shining hopefully. "Mum, can't I go...?"
Harry and I shared a quick look of relief.
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. Alright, Percy, you go first."
The oldest of four redheaded boys stepped forwards.
"Why are we spying on random strangers?" Alistair said, he and Dakota finally noticing we'd wandered off and hastily making their way over with our carts. "Are we going to mug them and steal their freckles?"
"No, you weirdo-look-" I shushed him, gesturing at the pillar.
When I looked back, the redheaded boy was gone.
"What the-?"
"Wait-where-?"
Alistair looked back at Dakota who was blinking rapidly.
The woman told another of her sons, 'Fred', to 'go'.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George."
I blinked when I looked closer and realised they were identical twins.
"Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
Mischief twinkled in his eyes.
"Sorry, George, dear."
"Only joking, I am Fred."
I snorted a laugh, shaking my head in amusement as I watched 'Fred-no George-no Fred' shoot off at the pillar, calling for his twin to follow.
Fred and George vanished.
We still had no bloody idea how.
"Excuse me?" Dakota called over, pushing my cart. "Can you spare a moment, please?"
The woman looked over in surprise.
"Oh-" she spotted me and Harry and smiled warmly with new understanding. "Hello. First time at Hogwarts?" she asked Dakota, nodding at us. "Ron's new, too."
She pointed at her youngest son; a thin, awkward-looking boy with freckles, blue eyes, and a long nose.
"Yes," Dakota said. "You see, the thing is, my husband and I are Muggles-am I using that right? Anyway, we don't know how to access the platform, and no one had the foresight to tell us how."
"Not to worry," the woman replied kindly, "all they have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop," she added, looking at me and Harry, "and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."
The woman looked back at Dakota.
"Why don't your son and daughter go now, before Ron?" she suggested.
Harry looked secretly pleased when neither Dakota nor Alistar corrected her.
"Er-okay," he said.
"Same time? I'll break my nose first," I joked, a hint of a cheeky grin on my face, "then you can run into the pillar after me and finish me off."
"Stop before you make the poor kid even more nervous than he already is," Dakota scolded fondly, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me firmly on the head.
"Correction, I'm using humour to diffuse his nervousness," I informed her innocently. "Ms Dodds says I do it a lot, as a defence mechanism."
"You're using humour to freak your brother out," Dakota countered pointedly before kissing my head again. "I want you to send Illyuis with a letter the first chance you get to let us know you're all settled in-you too Harry, with Hedwig-and what-uh-houses you ended up being Sorted into-"
"Slytherin sounded cool," Alistair offered.
"It's apparently super evil," I told him.
"Really? Sweet," he whistled.
"I'll see you guys at Christmas-" I said with a snort, looking sideways at Alistair, "You know, if the house is still standing."
"Okay, I feel attacked," Alistair stated, hand to his chest.
"You should," I agreed jokingly, adding, "try to not burn down the house while I'm gone, huh?"
"Shouldn't this conversation be the other way around?" Dakota wondered, amused.
"Out of the two of us, who do you think is more likely to burn a house down?" I retorted.
"Well-" she glanced at her husband.
"Dakota!"
"Ha-ha," I snorted, grinning.
"Be good, sweetie," Dakota ordered lightly, kissing my forehead. "I don't want to get a stack of letters from your teachers complaining about your behaviour-"
"They have it out for me," I told her.
"'They?'" Alistair questioned.
"Teachers," I explained.
"All teachers everywhere have it out for you?" Dakota repeated dryly.
"...yes?"
Shaking her head in fond exasperation, Dakota gave me one last tight hug before passing me on to her husband.
"Raise some hell for me, kid-" he joked, "but keep it PG, for Dakota's sake."
Dakota smothered Harry with kisses, and a huge hug, of his own.
Harry looked faintly stunned, but happy.
"Good luck-" Alistair said, patting Harry amiably on the shoulder, "and to clarify," he added, leaning down, "I meant good luck with Jewel, not school. She's a bit of a handful-"
"I'm a delight," I interrupted, jokingly offended, "thank you very much."
Alistair shot me a grin.
"Ready to run headfirst into a pillar," I remarked as Harry and I grabbed our carts and wheeled them to face the pillar between nine and ten, "like these responsible adults told us to?"
"Come on," Harry said, shaking his head with a grin.
With a last look back at Dakota and Alistair, who wove and smiled warmly, we started to walk-slowly speeding up as we approached the pillar.
I took the lead, nerves twisting up my stomach, with Harry close on my heels.
"Alright, here goes nothing," I sighed under my breath.
There was a split second of 'oh-god-I'm-gonna-crash-why-the-hell-did-I-agree-to-this-!' panic but, when my cart collided with the pillar, I found myself going straight through it.
I abruptly stopped, staring in awe at the sight in front of me.
A huge scarlet express waited to be boarded and, all around me, the platform was bustling with wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes. Overhead, a sign reading Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock was hanging and, where the barrier had been behind me, now stood a wrought-iron archway.
Across it, read:
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Something suddenly rammed into me from behind and I jumped, whipping around to see Harry's cart-and, behind it, Harry gawking at the platform.
"Mate, cart control!" I groaned, shoving his cart back towards him and rubbing my backside.
Harry went pink.
"Sorry, Jewel."
I grumbled and, turning around, started pushing my cart towards the train through the crowd of people, hooting owls, and colourful cats slinking between legs and trunks.
"Sorry, my ass-literally!" I exclaimed.
Harry followed sheepishly on my heels.
"Gran, I've lost my toad again-"
"Oh, Neville-"
"Give us a look, Lee, go on-"
We finally fell upon an empty compartment at the end of the train.
Harry put Hedwig in first, while I grabbed Illyius, but when we tried to haul our trunks up from our carts and onto the luggage rack inside we were faced with the dilemma that is two eleven-year-olds with no upper body strength trying to move trunks full of, what I could only assume to be, concrete blocks.
Harry winced and, looking over quickly, I snorted loudly and cracked up realising he'd dropped his trunk on his foot.
"It's not funny, Jewel-that really hurt-" he groaned, shoving it off his toes.
If anything, that just made me laugh more.
I mean, I am the evil twin-I have a reputation to uphold, here.
"Want a hand?"
To my surprise, it was one of the ginger twins from the Muggle side of the station-and when I looked at him, I don't know how, but I suddenly knew it was George, not Fred.
A yellow rubber band snapped.
"Yes, please," Harry said, panting.
"Well, I mean-it's sort of funnier watching you struggle-" I said to Harry, grinning.
He ignored me but George sniggered.
"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"
George grabbed my trunk and loaded it onto the railing above the seats and, appearing seemingly out of thin air, Freddid the same for Harry's.
"Cheers," I said with a nod.
"Thanks," a grateful Harry added, pushing his sweaty fringe back.
"What's that?"
Seeing the twin's faces, and realising Harry had accidentally revealed his scar when he pushed his hair out of his face-
I facepalmed.
Here we go again.
"Blimey, are you?"
"He is, aren't you?"
"What?"
Harry was visibly lost.
"Mate, really?" I deadpanned and he looked at me in confusion.
"Harry Potter," the twins chorused.
"Oh, him," Harry said. "I mean, yes, I am."
"Oh my god," I groaned with a laugh, covering my face. "Seriously, Harry?"
Blushing, Harry shot me a look.
The twins abruptly jerked around to face me, still gawking.
"Wait, so if he's him-"
"Him being Harry Potter-"
"That means you're-"
"Fred? George? Are you there?"
"Coming mum!" the twins called, looking at us one last time before jumping off the train.
I let out a loud sigh and flopped back onto the seats.
"That's already really old-" I stated seriously as Harry sat down next to me by the window, "We need disguises."
"Dis-?"
"A hat," I decided, clicking my fingers, "you need a hat."
I eyed him critically.
"How do you feel about stetsons?"
"Stetsons?" Harry looked at me oddly, "why-?"
"They're the only reasonable option."
"How are stetsons the only-?"
"Ron, you've got something on your nose."
Hearing the voice of the witch from the station from our compartment we went quiet, looking out the window in surprise to see the redheaded family.
"Mum-geroff!"
Ron wriggled to get free as his mum tried to rub at his nose.
"Aah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" one of the twins teased.
"Shut up."
"Where's Percy?" the mum asked the twins.
"He's coming now."
The eldest redhead appeared, a polished silver badge with the letter 'P' shining proudly on his chest and already dressed in his Hogwarts robes.
"Can't stay long, mother, I'm up-front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"
"So he doesn't seem pretentious at all-" I mumbled dryly to Harry.
I can say, with absolute certainty, that we won't be getting on well-but, then again, I've never had the best track record with authority figures.
Or pretentious prats.
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" one of the twins, who I'm pretty sure I will get along swimmingly with, mocked in feigned surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
"Hang on," the other twin remarked, "I think I remember him saying something about it."
"Once-"
"Or twice-"
"A minute-"
"All summer-"
"Oh, shut up."
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?"
"Because he's a prefect," their mother said, looking at Percy fondly. "Alright, dear, have a good term-send me an owl when you get there."
She kissed his cheek and he left.
"Now, you two-" she turned back to the twins, "this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've-you've blown up a toilet or-"
-Blown up a what?!
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet," one of the twins considered.
"Great idea though, thanks, mum," the other added.
I stifled a laugh and Harry nudged me to shut up.
"It's not funny. And look after Ron."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."
For the second time, Ron told the twins to shut up.
If I run into that kid again, I'll teach him how to come up with a good comeback because this is just sad.
"Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"
Harry and I looked at each other before hastily leaning back to avoid being seen-just in case the twins tried to point us out and they notice us eavesdropping.
"You know that black-haired boy and that redheaded girl who were near us in the station? Know who they were?"
"Who?"
"Jewel and Harry Potter!"
I grimaced and ran a hand through my hair.
"Oh, mum, can I go on the train and see them? Mum, eh please..." the little girl pleaded.
I silently prayed for her mum to say no.
"You've already seen them, Ginny, those poor kids aren't something you google at in the zoo-" oh, thank god. "Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there-like lightning."
"We didn't get to see hers," George jumped in, "but she has to be Jewel Potter-they're together-and they both have green eyes-"
"Poor dears. He was ever so polite, and she-well, she actually reminded me a bit of the two of you...oh, but I wonder who those people who were with them were-their aunt and uncle, maybe?"
I traded a wry look with Harry.
"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"
A flash of green.
I mentally shuddered, toying with my rubber bands.
"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that day on their first day at school."
"Alright, keep your hair on."
The whistle announcing the express' departure sounded.
"Hurry up!" the mother urged, ushering her children onto the train.
Ginny began to cry.
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."
"George!"
"Only joking, mum."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
As the station vanished from view, I turned to ask Harry if he wanted to play I spy or something-when the compartment door suddenly opened.
To our surprise, it was Ron.
"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."
He pointed at the seat across from us.
"The more the merrier," I quipped wryly when Harry shook his head, "or so I've heard."
Sitting down, Ron glanced at us before quickly looking out the window.
There was a dark smudge on his nose.
"Hey, Ron."
Seeing Fred and George, I perked up.
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train-Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," Ron mumbled, not exactly seeming enthused by the idea.
Apparently, he's terrified of spiders.
Good to know.
A purple rubber band snapped.
"Lee's got a what now?" I questioned with interest.
"Giant tarantula," George said casually.
"Harry, did we introduce ourselves?" Fred went on, talking to Harry but eyeing me, "Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. And...?"
Both twins looked pointedly at me.
I pretended to look around before mockingly pointing at myself.
"Jewel Potter?" they said when I didn't move to introduce myself.
"Where? That bitch owes me money."
The twins snorted loudly.
"Can we-?"
Their eyes lingered on my neck.
"...See my scar?" I finished wryly. "I mean, you can-doesn't mean I'll show it to you."
Harry nudged me.
"What? That's just bad grammar," I said, an impish grin tugging at my lips, "it's may I."
"Fine," Fred snorted, "may we see your scar?"
"I suppose," I said mock primly, pulling back my thick untidy red hair.
Ron arched out of his seat but, to his frustration, couldn't see my scar properly from where he was.
"Wicked," the twins whistled. "See you later, then."
"Bye," Harry and Ron said.
George winked at me and, with that, he and Fred shut the compartment door.
"Damn," I huffed, pouting at Harry, "I kind of wanted to go see Lee's tarantula."
"Are you really Harry and Jewel Potter?" Ron blurted.
Harry nodded.
"Only in the summertime," I deadpanned lazily. "And twice before breakfast."
"Oh-" Ron glanced at me oddly, "well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. And have you really got-you know..."
When he pointed at his forehead, Harry pushed his fringe to the side.
Harry nudged me and, rolling my eyes, I turned so Ron could see mine too.
"So that's where You-Know-Who...?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, "but we can't remember it."
Ron looked at him eagerly.
"Nothing?"
"Well-I remember a lot of green light-" I looked at Harry sharply, "but nothing else."
"Wow."
Realising he was staring again, Ron looked back out the window.
A yellow rubber band snapped.
"Are all your family wizards?" Harry wondered.
"Er-Yes, I think so. I think mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
I snorted at that.
"So you must know loads of magic already," Harry said, something I'd noticed had become a point of insecurity/anxiety for him.
"I heard you went to live with Muggles, what are they like?" Ron asked.
"Horrible-well, not all of them," Harry replied. "Our aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."
"Well then," I huffed, pretending to be offended.
"Five," Ron gloomily corrected. Yikes. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left-Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
I felt a stab of sympathy as I looked at Ron.
I couldn't imagine what that must feel like-not always being second to an older sibling, but sixth to five older brothers in a house of nine.
-or, maybe the problem was, I could (and knew that feeling better than I would ever admit to anyone in this compartment, or out of it).
"His name's Scabbers and he's useless-" Ron pulled out a fat, grey rat from inside his jacket, "he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff-" his ears pinked at his slip up, "I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
For a second, I just stared at Scabbers, eyebrows deeply furrowed.
Then, shaking my head forcefully, I snapped a pink rubber band on my wrist, hard, and refocused on Harry who, not seeing anything wrong with not having the money for owls and whatever, was telling Ron about how he never got any proper birthday presents growing up and how he had to wear all of Dudley's old clothes which seemed to cheer him up. I would've said something too, about some of my old foster placements and how I didn't have a family or a penny to my name before the Morrisseys adopted me, but I didn't want anyone to know about that. I already told Harry to not tell anyone about foster care or even our separation, and he promised he wouldn't; if we're really as famous as it seems we are, the last thing I want is for any of that to get dredged up.
"...and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about our parents or Voldemort."
Ron gasped.
Oh, right-'speak not the name.'
"What?" my somewhat dense brother asked.
"You said a no-no word," I informed him mockingly.
Harry looked confused.
"You said You-Know-Who's name!" Ron said, seemingly impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people-"
It took everything in me to bite my tongue and beat back the rising snarkiness with a stick.
"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," Harry confessed, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn...I bet, I bet I'm the worst in the class."
"Well, you can be a little dense-"
Ron shot me an incredulous look.
"-but, you know, in a lovable way," I added quickly. "It'll probably be fine."
Harry looked less than reassured.
"You won't be," Ron told him. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."
"I'll even help you with your homework, if you want," I offered, "and that's saying a lot-I barely do my own."
While we'd been talking, the scenery outside had changed to fields of grass and the odd barn animal that had escaped Old McDonald's tyranny. I pulled out my potions textbook, deciding to read for a bit-and, while I did, challenged Harry to a game of I spy. At least, until Ron asked what it was, and we attempted to explain the super simple travelling game to the Pureblooded wizard-only to end up somehow more confused than he was. Suffice to say, we fell into a relatively comfortable silence.
"Anything off the cart, dears?"
A dimpled, smiling witch with a cart of sweets stood by the open door.
His ears going pink again, Ron mumbled something about sandwiches while Harry leapt up.
I nudged Harry's leg with my foot.
"Get me something delicious and nut-free-" I said, fluttering my eyelashes sarcastically as I mockingly added, "pretty please."
"When Dakota told you to use your manners," he told me, "I don't think that's what she meant."
I shrugged unabashedly, looking back down at my book with a small smirk.
A moment later, Harry returned with an armful of sweets-one of everything, if I had to guess. He dumped it on the seat between us, and I grinned at him.
"Yep, we're definitely related," I joked as I put my book aside to rifle through the sweets.
It was all wizard stuff-from 'Jelly Slugs' and 'Cauldron Cakes' to 'Liquorice Wands' and 'Sugared Butterfly Wings'. There were Chocolate Frogs, but they didn't look like normal Chocolate Frogs.
Or frogs at all, judging by the pentagonal boxes they came in.
"Hungry, are you?" Ron commented as he stared at the pile of sweets.
"Starving," Harry replied as he took a bite out of a 'Pumpkin Pasty'.
I pocketed a packet of 'Drooble's Best Blowing Gum' for later before opening a 'Licorice Wand' and ripping off the top with my teeth.
"She always forgets I don't like corned beef," Ron said as he unwrapped a lumpy looking package and pulled out a fourth of a cut-up sandwich.
I elbowed Harry and nodded at Ron.
"Swap you for one of these," Harry said as he held up one of his pasties. "Go on-"
Ron hesitated, clearly not wanting to screw over the Boy Who Lived.
"You don't want this, it's all dry. She hasn't got much time," he rushed to add, "you know, with five of us."
"Go on, have a pasty," Harry urged.
"You can just owe us one," I added, chewing on my liquorice wand.
Giving in, Ron grabbed the pasty.
I was halfway through my second Cauldron Cake, my book open on my lap, when Harry held up one of the Chocolate Frog packets and turned to Ron.
"What are these? They're not really frogs, are they?"
Oh yeah, I snorted around my cake, frog princes dipped in chocolate. Yummy.
"No. But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
"Ag-what-a?" I asked, the cake in my mouth making my question sound slightly garbled.
"What?" Harry said at the same time.
"Oh, of course, you two wouldn't know-Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect-famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."
I watched curiously as Harry unwrapped the Chocolate Frog packet and-
Wackadoodle's got his own frog card?
"So this is Dumbledore!"
Harry looked at me for confirmation.
"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" Ron said, "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa-"
I tossed him a packet and he smiled in thanks.
Harry flipped the card and, seeing writing on the back, I peered over to read.
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,
Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the
Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of
the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy
with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys
chamber music and tenpin bowling.
"I still say he's a wackadoodle," I mused.
"He's gone!" Harry said in surprise when he turned the card back over.
Dumbledore had vanished.
"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," Ron reasoned like it was normal for people in pictures to just up and walk away(remembering the way the pictures moved about on the newspaper Hagrid was reading as we left the hut-on-the-rock I wondered if, for him, it was). "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her...do you want it? You can start collecting."
Ron's eyes fell on the unopened Chocolate Frogs.
"Help yourself," Harry told him. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people stay put in photos."
I flipped over the Morgana card interestedly.
"Do they? What, they don't move at all? Weird!"
I flicked my eyes up in amusement at how amazed Ron was by the concept.
After I unwrapped my frog cards, I handed them to Harry, not interested in starting a collection and just wanting to read the backs.
Noticing that, he and Ron would pass me their cards to read-unless I'd already read them-and I'd pass those back, too. I opened Hengist of Woodcroft and Paracelsus and, after reading the information on the back, traded them with Harry for the druidess Cliodna who was scratching her nose.
"You want to be careful with those," Ron said warningly when Harry grabbed a box of sweets labelled 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans'. "When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour-you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger flavoured one once."
I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
Still, not wanting to be left out, I reached in and pulled out a white bean.
Ron cautiously took a bite from the corner of a green one and pulled a face.
"Bleaaargh-see? Sprouts."
"Mine's coconut," I said smugly, finishing it off.
It was like a game-and, according to Ron, I was 'cheating'.
I guess if you count lying and saying every single one of the beans I had, even the one that tasted like lawn clippings, was something delicious then sure, I was 'cheating'.
In my defence, the look on Ron's face was priceless.
Dark hills, rivers, and thick trees rolled by our window.
I was just trying to pick between having a Pumpkin Pasty(I'm not a big fan of pumpkin, or pumpkin-flavoured things, but Ron said they were good)or some of my Drooble's Best Blowing Gum when there was a knock on our compartment door.
It was a round-faced blonde boy I vaguely remembered walking by on the platform when Harry and I were looking for a compartment.
I think I overheard something about him losing his toad-and, judging by the look on his face, it had happened again.
"Sorry," he said tearfully, "but have you see a toad at all?"
We all shook our heads.
"I've lost him!" the boy wailed. "He keeps getting away from me!"
"Have you considered investing in a leash?" I quipped.
Harry nudged me to shut up.
"He'll turn up," he said comfortingly.
"Yes," the boy replied looking miserable. "Well, if you see him..."
The boy shut the compartment door and moved on.
I ran a hand through my hair and grinned at Harry's pointed stare.
"What? Humour's the best medicine, isn't it?"
"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron remarked. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference." He looked at the rat, which had been dead asleep on his lap all day, in disgust, "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."
Digging through his trunk, Ron pulled out a battered wand.
It was worn, chipped in places, and a glinting white substance peaked out of the tip.
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway."
Ron rose his wand, opening his mouth to perform the dud spell-
Suddenly, the compartment door reopened.
The boy from before was back but, this time, he was accompanied by a bossy-looking girl about our age. She was already wearing her school robes and had large teeth and a ton of bushy brown hair.
"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked.
She even sounds bossy.
"Oh, yeah, we're harbouring it," I said sarcastically, holding up my hands, "you caught us."
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron added in annoyance.
The girl ignored us, her eyes zeroing in on his wand.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then."
She invited herself to sit down, and I stared at her in disbelief.
"Er-alright," Ron said, taken aback.
Clearing his throat, he pointed his wand at Scabbers, and I leant forwards.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow," he recited, "turn this stupid fat rat yellow."
He wove his wand.
Nothing happened.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl remarked, speaking faster and faster as she went on, "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard-I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough-I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
Harry and Ron looked stunned.
"I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead muttered, not exactly warming up to the bossy interloper.
"Harry Potter," Harry added.
"The Sugar Plum Fairy," I deadpanned, swiping a packet of Fudge Flies.
"Are you really?"
It took me a second to realise she meant Harry.
Thank god, for a second I thought she thought I was being serious.
"I know all about you, of course-I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?" Harry said looking dazed.
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me."
Honestly, I was too busy trying to not find out anything else-
"Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad...Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon." Hermione turned to me, "If you want, um-?"
She paused, realising she'd glossed over me introducing myself as the Sugar Plum Fairy.
"Wait-" she looked quickly at Harry and then back at me in realisation, "are you Jewel Potter?"
"Only in the summertime-and twice before breakfast," Ron recited.
Hermione looked at him oddly.
I bit back a grin.
"No, if you recall, I'm the Sugar Plum Fairy," I corrected with feigned seriousness.
"'The Sugar Plum Fairy?'" Hermione repeated slowly.
"Okay, that's fair-" I flashed a roguish smirk, "I definitely should've gone with Maleficent. It's more believable. Plus, she's a straight-up badass."
"Uh-right," Hermione said awkwardly. "Do you want to change in my compartment?" she asked, "It's empty-"
"There's a surprise," Ron muttered quietly.
"-so you can get ready and you won't even have to wait for Harry and Ron to leave."
Before I could think up an excuse to not do that, Hermione was up and looking around at our trunks.
"Is that one yours?"
I nodded dumbly, watching in disbelief as she dug out my uniform.
Say what you want about Hermione Granger, but she's got balls.
"You have a lot of books," she commented, seeming to warm up to me at the sight, "even ones that aren't on the class list. I'm the same way-I've been doing a lot of reading ever since I found out I was a witch-"
She continued to ramble on until finally hopping down and grabbing my arm.
"Come on, Jewel, Neville-"
I shot the boys a SAVE ME, YOU GITS! look.
They did not save me and, giving up on being rescued by those useless traitors, I silently swore my revenge as the pushy brunette hauled me down the corridor with the blonde boy awkwardly following behind us.