King's Cross Station
I sighed as I fell into bed that night. What a day. Thinking about what I'd heard earlier that morning, I grimaced. Harry Potter? How could I have not known? The dark, messy hair... clear green eyes... powerful strength I'd seen... everything about him shouted the name I'd read about since I was a little girl. And the scar. On his forehead. I hadn't been able to see it because of his bangs, but how could I not have known it was there?
Groaning loudly, I pressed my face into my pillow. Tomorrow I was going to Hogwarts, and who would be there? Harry Potter himself! I'd known he was going to Hogwarts. How come I hadn't even suspected that he was the mystery boy?
Probably because his relatives, Vernon and Petunia, were so Muggle-ish. Who were they, anyway? His aunt and uncle? More than likely. I'd learned about how James and Lily were killed by Lord Voldemort when he attacked the wizarding community at the height of his strength. Somehow, no one knew for sure, young Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort. He stripped him of his power when Voldemort tried to kill him. Voldemort had no choice but to slink away and try to regain his almightiness on his own.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to fall asleep. I imagined walking into Hogwarts tomorrow, swishing to classes in my silky new robes, hiking around the grounds, sitting in the woods and reading my texts, listening to the Weird Sisters on my CD player, and fitting in. Sighing in content, I prepared to drift into sleep.
As a dream took shape in my head, I was sitting in Charms class, taking notes on parchment, when the door creaked open. I glanced up, expecting to seem some tardy students, but instead, Harry Potter walked into the room. He glanced at me and sat down in a seat near the windows. Outside it was dreary, rainy, and dark. Furrowing my brow, I glanced down at the watch strapped loosely around my wrist. 9:31. How could it be so dark when it was so early in the morning? When I glanced up at the window, my eyes locked on Harry's. All the thoughts of time and thunderstorms flew out of my head. Harry's piercing green eyes were all I saw...
"Ahh!" I screamed, sitting straight up in bed. Rubbing my eyes, I groaned, pounding the pillow with a balled up fist. Couldn't I stop thinking about him for one minute?
Sighing, I glanced at my watch, propped up against the base of my lamp. The sporty, digital face read 3:45. Frowning, I stumbled out of bed, slipping my feet into the slippers I'd left out of my trunk. I must have fallen asleep, I thought to myself wearily. The last thing I remember was thinking about Hogwarts.
As I stood up, I glanced around my room. It was neat and trim. The closet door was shut, the dressers almost bare with a few things stacked and set out. The bathroom door was closed, and the robe hung neatly on a plastic hook. My trunk was locked and pushed in a corner, and my jacket, clothing, and backpack were piled on top of it for tomorrow. Nothing was out of place but me. I felt strangely wrong in the setting.
As I pushed open the bedroom door to the hallway, I thought about everything that had happened today. After leaving the Ministry of Magic, we'd stopped by Worthwhile Wands, the Witches' Aid Society Aunt Kella worked at. She had to check up on the magical basket drive, a fundraiser they were putting on. Everything was on schedule, so we didn't stay long. In fact, the association had more donations than they expected, so they were about fifty baskets ahead of production protocol.
The basket drive was a fundraiser that Worthwhile Wands put on every year. They collected contributions from the magical community for families that couldn't afford the new school year. As we were leaving I decided to put something in the huge barrels outside. I quickly ran over to the store next door and purchased an expensive, blue velvet-lined wand case for quick, efficient travel. Happy with myself, I dropped it into a huge, metal barrel before racing to catch up with my aunt.
Next, we went to a large department store in London and got some new clothes for me. Those new clothes were now loaded in my trunk. They were to wear off school grounds and whenever else I could.
Lastly, we had stopped for a late lunch on Fortress Avenue and a dessert break at Florean Fortescue's, where I had ordered a butter pecan- fudge ripple sundae, strawberry frosty, and a vanilla icecream cookie. I was a big fan of junk food, and Fortescue's was a better place than any to indulge. As we sat in the icy air-conditioning, reclining in red vinyl booths, my aunt and I chatted about my junior high, mother and father, my friends, her work, and other trivial topics. We skirted the real issue and never got around to discussing what had happened at the Minister of Magic's office. I never told her about my pains or Cornelius Fudge's warning, and she'd never explained the le Fay and Merlin heirs, the prophecy, or what Harry Potter had to do with any of it. Or why I was involved, of all people.
Then we'd come home, I'd packed, we'd sat in comfortable silence at a good-bye dinner for me, and I'd gone to bed early, wanting to get a goodnight's sleep for the trip to Hogwarts. The tension had still been thick in the air as I kissed my aunt good-night and left the living room.
Now I slipped into the kitchen and flipped on the light switch near the door. Blinking my eyes blearily in the bright light, I shuffled over to the refrigerator. Opening it, I grabbed a water bottle from the door and leaned against the counter, closing my eyes.
I was so nervous about later today. I'd never attended a boarding school before. Yolanda's would have been my first, if I'd been accepted. At least then I would have been in the States. Now I was in some distant country, trapped in a web of secrets and deception, lies and legends.
Sighing, I capped the bottle and shoved it back in the fridge. I headed for the stairs and retreated to my room. Throwing myself on my bed, I wrapped the comforter tightly around me, pressing my fingers into my eyes, forcing them closed. Imaging awful, cliche scenes of fluffy sheep hopping over low fences, I breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon. The thought that had been nagging at the back of mind since before lunch pushed to the front, and I couldn't help contemplating it before I fell into a deep sleep.
What in the world had possessed me to miss just the right amount of questions on Yolanda's entrance exams to not make it in? Why, oh why, had I manipulated the school administration into believing I wasn't as smart as I actually was? Because if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't be here right now. Stuck in the middle of some insane prophecy that had to do with Harry Potter.
(*)
"Oh! You look simply lovely!" my aunt proclaimed as I gracefully strode down the front staircase. She'd whirled around when I cleared my throat at the top, and now she went back to rooting through her purse on the front table, shooting me sidelong glances.
I smiled happily, momentarily forgetting about everything that had been going on recently. Butterflies were flitting around in my stomach, and I pressed a hand to my belly in a vain attempt to calm my nerves. It didn't work.
This morning I'd gotten up extra-early to get ready. I'd taken careful time with my makeup and hair, a longer shower than normal, and used a relaxing kiwi facial scrub. When I'd gotten dressed, I'd spent extra time making sure what I was wearing was appropriate. I knew that I'd probably change on the train ride, but I wanted to make a good impression on my peers.
I was wearing an outfit I'd gotten the day before: a sheer, pale blue, knee-length skirt with two-inch lace fringe at the bottom, silky white tank top with a light blue flower bud centered at the top, and chunky white sandals with a wide, stretchy strap going across the top of my foot. The sides of my hair were pulled up and snapped back with a pearl clip, but I'd left out two tendrils that framed my face. My makeup was light and translucent: glittery blue eyeshadow, shiny pink lipgloss, one coat of light brown mascara, and a light-colored pressed powder.
If the other students didn't like how I looked today, I don't know if they ever would. Usually, I never took as much time to get ready as I had this morning.
I slipped into my leather coat and hooked my purse around my shoulder. Grabbing the handle of my trunk I started to pull it towards the door.
"Oh, no, you wait a minute," my aunt said, mocking a stern tone. I turned to her. She suddenly broke out in a smile. "I have to get pictures first!"
Groaning, I set my trunk down and moved to stand on the stairs again, shedding my jacket and tossing it on the banister. Aunt Kella giggled and grabbed her camera case, quickly unloading it and propping it on the table. She went to join me on the stairs.
Puzzled, I waited a second before asking, "Uh, Aunt Kella? How are you planning to take the picture?"
She giggled again, giddy and happy. I noted with pleasure that she was back to her usual, perky self.
"Oh, dear, don't worry. I've got it under control. Your Aunt Kella isn't that old," she quipped, pulling out her wand. I laughed and watched in amazement as she pointed her wand at the camera and said, "Catalepsious!"
The camera immediately rose and hovered in the air, its lense pointing in our direction.
I voiced my praise, but she shrugged it off. "Oh, it's nothing. I picked this up at Muggle's Charm."
"What's that?" I asked curiously.
"It's a small little shop, tucked away on Heinlein Street. The owner has a license to charm Muggle artifacts, and he sells them with an instruction card on how to use them properly. I absolutely love the store. I do a lot of my Christmas shopping there, and whenever I have some extra time I like to browse around," she explained.
"Where's Heinlein Street?" I asked. Muggle's Charm sounded like a place I'd like to visit sometime.
"Oh, not many people know about it. It's another wizarding street, not as big as Diagon Alley, of course, but efficient nonetheless. You can get to it by leaning up against the back wall of the Department of Muggle Interactions, a hidden wizarding building in downtown London. The street appears off to your left, down an alley," she informed me. I tucked the information away.
"When I say 'cheese', the shutter clicks," my aunt went on to explain. "Now get-" As she was saying it, there was a loud boing, and a burst of glitter dust, specked with shiny blue and neon pink stars exploded from the camera. The assortment of colorful ash floated down to the floor and disappeared. The camera, however, produced a picture that bobbed around in the air.
"Oh, my, I said 'cheese', didn't I?" she asked worriedly, a frown creasing her brow. When she realized what she'd done, she slapped her palm over her mouth. I, meanwhile, was laughing so hard I had to clutch my stomach.
The camera boinged again, and another picture shot out of the camera to hover next to the other one.
"Okay. Now let's be for real," my aunt said, calming down. She stepped closer to me and I wrapped my arm proudly around her shoulders. Smiling widely, we said 'cheese' at the same time.
After a few more pictures and a final goofy one, we took a look at them. The first two were funny. I was staring intently at my aunt, my brown creased, midnod. She had her mouth open knowledgeably, one index finger poised in the air. In the second picture, Aunt Kella's mouth was open in a circle, and her eyes were widened in shock. A blur at her side indicated the hand that was coming up to slap her mouth shut. I was bent over, laughing. My eyes were squeezed shut and my mouth was wide open. I looked like an idiot.
Blushing, I grabbed the second one. "I'll just take this-"
But my aunt yanked it out of my hand. "I don't think so, darling. These are both going in the photograph book."
"No, please," I pleaded, but she wouldn't back down. Firmly shaking her head no, she put the camera back in its case and we left the house, carefully locking the door behind us.
(*)
The ride to the train station was uneventful. Aunt Kella tuned into a teen wizarding station on the car radio, and I tried to convince her that the Weird Sisters and Potion were honest, hard-working bands who put their hearts and soul into their music. She snorted, unconvinced.
"The day those men and women actually try to sing is the day I buy their CD," she stated. "Now Celestina Warbeck, there's a singer."
"She's fifty-three years old!"
"Oh, that just makes her more experienced. She should teach those young hoodlums how to sing real music," Aunt Kella suggested, making a left.
"Oh, Aunt Kella. Don't be silly," I said, throwing up my hands. "She sings, like, Oldies, doesn't she?"
"Now Opal, come now, dear. They aren't called Oldies. They're called classics," Aunt Kella reached across the seat, her eyes still on the road, and patted my shoulder. "When you get older, you'll understand."
"I hope not," I said, and rifled through my backpack. Pulling out my CD case, which I'd grabbed from my trunk with my Discman and headphones this morning, I clicked it open. Biting the inside of my cheek, I flipped through the collection before extracting a CD from one of the clear pockets and slipping it into the CD player in the car.
Before my aunt could protest, music filled the cramped area. Over the guitar strumming, I asked my aunt, "What do you think of this group?"
It took her awhile before she answered, "What are they called?"
"Do you like them?"
"What are they called?"
"Do you like them?"
"What are they called?"
"Do you like them?"
"Yes!" she finally screeched, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. "Now answer me: what are they called?"
"The Dementors," I said, throwing her a smirk of triumph.
Aunt Kella groaned, but a small smile sprouted on her face. After we'd listened to the CD for a few songs, she reached out and turned it off. I started to protest, but she held up a hand. "No. Listen to me." I fell silent.
"Sweet, you have to know something before you go," she started. I waited for her to continue, and eventually she did. "I love you so very much."
My chin dropped to my chest, and I stared at my wringing hands. She continued, "You must understand: if anything happens this year, it's not my fault. If I start to change..." she trailed off quietly.
"Listen, Aunt Kella-" I started, but she cut me off again.
"Honey, I love you more than you can possibly know. There's a lot of stuff going on I'm sure you're wondering about. The questions will be answered... in the future... the near future..." she took a deep breath and the car went silent. Again, I stared at my squirming hands. The silver ring on my right index finger. The hangnail on my left thumb. The chipped polish on my pinkies. Aunt Kella spoke again, so quietly I could barely hear her. "Opal, there are things that you don't know that would scare you out of your mind. Unfortunately, I have something to do with a couple of those frightening things. You'll find out all about them soon enough, but please, please, please don't go sneaking around. Whatever you do, don't get in trouble this year. Be patient."
Finally, she let me talk. "Aunt Kella, I know, okay?" Noticing her stiffen, I quickly explained, "I don't know know, but I understand. I won't get in trouble, and I won't snoop. I have a feeling that I won't have enough time for that anyway."
She allowed herself a small smile, and the tension in the car eased.
Until we turned a corner and pulled into a bustling train station parking lot. "We're here!" Aunt Kella said cheerfully, switching off the ignition and getting out of the car. I didn't hop out so quickly, though.
The butterflies were back.
(*)
King's Cross Station. Here it is, I thought wearily to myself. The huge, modern building rose up mightily, surrounded by iron-cast platforms which were wide and regal in an old-fashioned way. Pressing my lips shut, I stared wordlessly at the crowd bustling around.
In the parking spot next to us, a car sputtered to a stop. I couldn't help but stare, even if it was rude. The vehicle looked like it had been the first one off Henry Ford's assembly line. It was colored a deep maroon, and the shady glass windows were thick and roughly cut. Glancing in the driver's window, I noticed the seats were covered with thick velvet.
Who drives a car like that anymore?, I asked myself silently. Though it was a rhetorical question, it was answered a second later when a huge pile of people began pouring out. Apparently, a gigantic family of red-headed, freckle-faces drove a car like that.
The family seemed to never stop coming. When they were all out and stretching towards the sky, happily commenting on the cramped ride and the weather, I counted seven. Seven! Wow, I thought, supressing a grin, that must be a lot of fun.
And I was serious. I had never wanted to be an only child. I had always wanted something like that: big, happy, fun. Instead, I was stuck with a rich snob mother, an overworked, strong and silent father, tired, angry nurses and maids, and a huge, lonely house.
"Opal! Come now! Let's get your luggage and be going!" Kella called from the rear of the car. She seemed not to notice the huge family.
I slid around her side of the car. "Aunt Kella, don't you sometimes wish for a family like that?" I asked my aunt. I tilted my head in the general direction of the red-heads.
Aunt Kella glanced at them. After turning away, her head spun back around. "Why, I've never seen so many..." her voice trailed off as she spotted the father, who was handling a long checklist of some sort. She colored slightly and ducked her head. "Opal, dearest, let's get your trunk and go... quick now..."
I grabbed my trunk from the rear of the car and hurried after my aunt, who was clicking away on the pavement, her heels tapping swiftly as she power-walked towards one of the platforms. "Aunt Kella," I gasped as I caught up. "What's wrong? Did you know someone? Were those people wizards?"
Aunt Kella glanced at me. She seemed to stiffen slightly, but suddenly loosened up. "Oh, honey. Don't worry yourself. Yes, that family was a wizarding one. I know the father though work... and we used to date, years and years ago. I assume his children attend Hogwarts now."
I raised her eyebrows. "I guess you don't want to talk about it?"
Aunt Kella laughed and punched me lightly. "No, silly, I don't. Besides, there's nothing to talk about. He's married now, and I'm not. It would just have been plain embarrassing if I'd bumped into him."
I nodded and casually rocked back and forth on my chunky shoes. "So. What do we do now?" I asked, lifting my hand off my trunk's handle and straightening my top.
Aunt Kella pursed her lips. "Well, the trip is paid for by the school, so we don't have to purchase a ticket. Now all we have to do is get to the proper platform, and you can board the train."
"Okay," I said, nodding my head slightly. "Which one is my platform?"
"That would be platform nine and three quarters," Aunt Kella answered. I glanced at her quizzically. How could the platform I was going to not be a whole number?
Suddenly, she smiled, as if answering my question. "Follow me. You'll see." She started to walk towards the right side of the station at a leisurely stroll, her hands tucked into the pockets of her elegant pantsuit. I smiled after her a second, admiring her fondly. Boy, I was glad to be living with my aunt. Maybe this year I could figure out who I really was, with her help.
As I pulled my trunk after me, I thought about my life. Whoever I was, I wasn't that rich brat from back in the States. I wasn't the snob that wished desperately to get into Yolanda's. And I wasn't my mother's daughter. My mother's daughter was a detached, cool, aloof prep with a sophisticated, trained walk who thought the world revolved around her. Sighing, I thought again of something that had dwelled on my mind since I was a small child: why, oh why, was I so different from my family? Not that I wanted to be like them, but why wasn't I? Sometimes it seemed I was adopted!
Smiling at the thought of actually being some gypsy woman's child who was dumped on my parents' doorstep as a baby, I hurried after my Aunt Kella. Now there was someone who could teach me a thing or two. She was clever and sharp, witty and cultured, but not stuck-up. She was caring and honest.
A second later, I caught up to Aunt Kella. She was waiting for me in front of the dividing barrier between platform nine and platform ten. She smiled sadly as I came up next to her.
"Okay, sweet. Right through there. Just head straight towards the wall right there- and you'll keep going onto platform nine and three quarters," she said to me, pointing one long, thin finger towards the railing.
I stared at her, puzzled. "Um, are you sure? Have you ever done it?"
She started to laugh. "Oh, honey, if you want, I'll go first. Trust me, I'm sure. Every decent wizard and witch in London knows how to get into Hogwarts, whether or not they go there. We're proud of our school!"
I stiffened. When I spoke, my voice was a slightly huffy. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't live in London. I don't even know what Hogwarts looks like."
Aunt Kella stopped laughing abruptly. "You don't know what it looks like, honestly? Well, I'm sorry, dear! I assumed you would have learned about it in school last year. Ah, well, I'll let it be a surprise. Okay, okay. I'll go through the wall first. You just watch me. It'll happen fast, so keep your eyes peeled."
I nodded and watched as Aunt Kella walked slowly towards the railing. She leaned up against it casually, and a split second later, she was gone. I gasped and widened my eyes, a small smile playing over my lips. That had been so cool! I couldn't wait to try it.
Just as I was turning my cart around to face the wall (I'd snagged one as I was dragging my trunk after Aunt Kella), one of the red-heads that I'd spotted getting out of the car next to us went flying by me, feet perched on one of the bars of his cart and his hands clenched on the handle, standing up as if he were riding a bike without his feet on the pedals. At the last second, he placed one foot on the ground, skidded in a half circle, and rolled through the wall backwards, facing me. I caught his eye, and he smiled mischievously. His blue gaze twinkled with humor as he disappeared.
A smiled back at him, but it was too late. Who was that?, I found myself wondering. He seemed just like my friends back in the States: daring and reckless. A voice behind me answered my question.
"That George, always showing off for anyone," an older boy said. He seemed to be in his late teens, but much more uptight than George. Horn-rimmed glasses were perched on his nose, and his back was straight and rigid. His hands were clamped firmly on his cart's handle, and he looked steaming mad. "Mother, really," he insisted. "Couldn't you reprimand him?"
The mother, a short, plump, cheery woman, blew a sweaty strand of hair out her eyes. Eyes that were the same shade of blue as George's. "No, no, dear. I'm sure I can trust you to do that."
The older boy huffed, but reluctantly gave into a smile. "True, I'm sure. Sorry, Mother. Should have known." He leaned down to peck his mother on the cheek. Turning, he clasped his father's hand in a firm handshake. "Good bye, Mother, Father. Wish me luck."
His father smiled. "Oh, son, you don't need any. You were made for this job."
The son's chest swelled with pride, and his face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. I am looking forward to it."
"Oh, Percy, just get on with it," a girl about a year younger than me pleaded, rolling her eyes. "We need to hurry. The train leaves at 11:00, and it's 10:51 already."
Hearing those words, I snapped out of my eavesdropping mode and strode casually towards the wall. Stopping, I pretended to adjust my silver bracelets while keeping my hands loosely clasped on the handle. Leaning backwards, I felt myself falling.
Stumbling onto another platform, I glanced around, humiliated. That had been embarrassing! I'd fogotten there wouldn't be anything to support any of my weight on the other side. Fortunately, no one had seen my clumsiness.
I pushed the cart towards the scarlet train carriages, and Aunt Kella made her way towards me through the thick crowd. She smiled. "Good job, honey! Have a nice trip, by the way?"
I laughed. "Funny, funny."
The smile dropped from her face. "Oh, dear, I'll miss you ever so much." She leaned forward to wrap me in a giant hug.
I hugged back, my head on her shoulder. Closing my eyes, I thought about the great times we'd had in the past couple of days. Yes, some of it had been scary. But for the most part, it had been like Aunt Kella was a real part of the family. I'd miss her, too.
"Oh, Aunt Kella. I'm so scared. And nervous. What if I can't make any friends?"
She smiled, blinking her eyes rapidly as she pulled back to look at me, her hands still firmly holding my bare shoulders. "You not make any friends? Don't worry, darling. You've got nothing to worry about."
I nodded, pressing my lips together. "So this is it."
She stood there silently.
"Good-bye, Aunt Kella," I murmured, hugging her again lightly. She seemed so sad. Like this was the very last time I'd ever see her. "Don't worry," I reassured her. "You can come to visit me at school. And I'll try to come home for Halloween. We'll see each other all the time."
She seemed to collapse, her whole body sagging downward. Her mouth quivered as if she were about to cry. Sure enough, her eyes were welling up with tears. She quickly pulled a tissue out of her pocket and patted her eyes gently. Next, out came her wand.
"Dear, I'm going to put a special bond on you. A bond isn't a curse, but it's not a charm or a spell either. It's very rare and special, and it locks a certain moment or fact or memory to the person that the bond is performed on. It only works under certain circumstances, and I'm sure this is a special circumstance." Her voice was firm and confident now. She was back to her old self.
"Remember Aunt Kella,
The way she is now.
She will always love you.
That is her vow."
"Oh, Aunt Kella!" I cried, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. "You have nothing to worry about! I love you, too!"
We hugged for a long time, and I pulled away so as not to start crying again. After saying good-bye a final time, I climbed aboard the train, pulling my trunk up after me.
Standing at the door as the other students boarded, I started down at my aunt. She stared back at me. I stood there until the giant steam engine let out a high-pitched whistle, and a man came by, slamming the door shut.
"Move on, move on," he told me kindly. "We need everyone to find a compartment as soon as possible. It's always so hectic." I nodded silently, biting my lip to hold back tears.
I'd never felt so alone in my entire life.