The heat was excruciating, but that had meant nothing to 11 year old Bianca Weatherbee. A letter had arrived, a letter from a place called Hogwarts. Reaching absently to rub her dampening brow, she holds the crumbled letter in shaky wet palms. White envelope now opaque. Long canary blonde curls unfurl around her slender shoulders, again fidgeting idly as she reaches to press them back, to no avail. Arms appearing only as long pale strips of gooseflesh, covered by heavy black robes. Bianca was wedged tightly between a rather obese man, and a similarly fashioned overweight woman. The Boeing 737 could not get her to London quick enough.
Blue eyes stare into the back of the seat in front of her. Hands still clutching the envelope nervously. Never had she heard of such wizardry being true, or a school for becoming such. Odd things had happened in her life, never before had she taken them seriously. Of course, the time the awoke, only to find that she had grown tentacles rather in place of her fingers the day before her swim competition was odd. She swore she was falling ill and awoke the next morning, normal again. Also, she had never heard of a pet shop goldfish aging to 11, especially when she was rather sparse about feeding it on a daily basis.
Unable to keep still, she rises and struggles to force her way in front of the mammoth like man to her side. Conveniently sneezing in her direction as she stumbles past. Self-conscious in her strange outfit, she threw the robes to her seat and sighed happily as she walked away in pajamas. Feeling alienated from the world she noted babies ceasing their crying as she passed, even sleeping folk awaking to watch her with awkward glances.
Small hands run along her face as she inspects herself in the lavatory of the plane. Azure eyes shine back with a strange spark, one she had never before noticed. Something different had come over her since she realized her greatest fear had come true. She was different. Not like the other girls her age. Slightly slanted eyes, sickened milky complexion, a nose that was to small, and appearing more and more blunt every time she looked at it. She was terribly skinny, and weak by all means. Weak, something that she was hoping would no longer be a problem for her now that she was going to learn magic.
Magic, just thinking it made her feel as if there was something taboo about it. Something she was raised believing was nothing but evil. A god-fearing girl, the idea tore through her like a gash caused by a blade of steel. Flying across the country, and into another, to participate and grow in talent of something that was so very wrong in everything she had learned growing up? The feeling was permeating every thread of her being. A mixture of fear, excitement, anxiousness, and impatience grew as if in a cauldron, brimming over the top to create the ever so wonderful feeling we dub nausea.
Slender digits curve around the metal railing as she steps down the stairs of the airport briskly. Knee-length black skirt hindering her step lightly as she jogs across the linolium floor. The large airport whirls past in a spinning blur as she makes her way slowly to the baggage claim. The rather large duffle falls off rather than gliding along like the others in an odd display it appears to be crawling towards her. A choked breath holds taught in her dry throat as she holds still. Azure eyes open widely, she remains unblinking, pupils dialated. At long last a rasp feeling catches her feet, inhaling deeply, she closes her eyes.
Looking down dismally, she spots the duffle, resting 100 feet from where it began on the conveyer belt. Gulping loudly, she presses her lips tightly together, and clenches her teeth. Knees bending lightly, she grabs the strap in attempts to hoist it over her shoulder. Only to stumble as it pulls her down. "I didn't pack that much." She struggles again and again. An unseen force seeming to hold it to the ground. Looking around suspiciously, she leans down and runs her hand beneath it. No super-glue, no magnet. Stepping back for a moment to watch curiously. Chin between forefinger and thumb, a nearly inaudible "Hmm" escapes her. Just as she takes another step, the bag lurches, a shrill scream follows.
She looks around quizzically, the room seemed to have heard nothing of her cry. A muffled sob escapes her as she gains courage to touch the bag with the toe of her black Mary Janes. The bag remains unmoving. Several moments later, gathering her wits about her. She takes another back step. The bag follows. With a heavy sigh, she looks about for anyone watching. Leaning over carefully, she clips a long cord to the bag and begins to walk. Looking much like a woman with a bag on a leash, she lifts her chin and walks out confidently.
Hailing a taxi was an arduous task indeed. Stamping her foot clad in smooth back leather into the mud, a streak of brown rain water rushes over her leg. Her body aches to get back on the plane and go home. "Mother won't be mad, in fact, I'm sure she'll be excited that I've come home, although the plane ticket was outrageous." She draws on, talking to herself. The back of her mind still pressuring her to open the bag and see if some sort of creature was dwelling in her back. Her phone and money was in there, "Well, I'll have to pay the driver." Another taxi rushes past. "If I can ever get into a car!" Her voice is now strained as she boldly steps in front of traffic. The back following faithfully.
Just as she steps off the curb, a violet taxi cab pulls just in front of her. Funny, couldn't even hear it approaching. Opening the door, she slides in, the back crawls in beside her. Absently she reaches down to pat the bag as if it were canine, now regarding it as her only friend.
The driver took a sharp turn to the left, than right, Bianca hardly able to sit still in her seat as he swerved in an out of traffic. Miraculously, the car halted in front of Kings Cross Station, without a scratch. Stepping out of the cab, wallet in hand, she searches for bills. As she looks up, the cab is gone. Funny, I don't even remember telling him where I was headed. Dumbfounded by the odd taxi drive, she stumbles awkwardly into the train station. The recollection of the taxi ride now blurry in her memory. The crimson duffle nudges her as they hesitate at the doorway.
Leaning to unzip the bag, she searches through it, bag squirming as if it's ticklish spot had been found out. She laughs giddily, a bit of excitement coursing through her as she pulls out the ticket. "Station 9 and 3/4" She says aloud to herself. Eyes scan a the horizon curiously, as a nimble finger reaches to twirl a curl of frizzed sun bleached tresses idly. A groan escapes her as she watches several people walk away. "Sir, can you help me.." Another cold shoulder. "Ma'am!" She reaches desperately for the woman's arm, only to be shunned again. Fanning herself with the ticket she stomps her foot. A cold hand grasps her shoulder.