Of New Beginnings

I had always been perfectly happy with being in New York, considering I was used to it for all 15 years of my life. I hoped that nothing would ever change—I hated change. Change was a tricky thing. You never knew what would happen or when it would happen or how long it would last or how much it would affect you. Change is what ruined my life. Well, actually Sylvie, my sister, is the one who sparked the changes, so she's the one to blame for one of the biggest, (well, third biggest) changes of my life. Leaving New York. Leaving all the lights and the traffic and the big buildings and most of all Broadway. How I loved Broadway and the arts. And because Sylvie took it upon herself to become my new mother figure, I was stuck going to a stupid wizarding school in the middle of nowhere, away from the big city.

I wish that attack had never happened. I wish that my parents were still…you know…here. But they're not, like many others who met the same fate. Fate that took my Mom and Dad away, fate that took Dan away, fate that decided to be particularly cruel to me and tore my life apart.

That's what got me on Platform 9 3/4: damn fate, damn change. I sat on my black trunk, which was covered in silver writing from Cory and Tristan's good-bye message. They took it upon themselves to make sure I would never go through a whole day without glimpsing it. My lips curled into a small smile at the thought of my two best and only friends in New York, but it immediately receded into a sorrowful frown at the realization of how far I was from home; 3471 miles—my new least favorite number.

I still had plenty of time to get on to the train. I was in no hurry. I was calm at the moment, now that Sylvie was no longer around me—in fact, I think she was glad to be rid of me. For the past summer, I tried to be as much of a burden as possible, in order to express my resentment towards her, after she made the decision to ship me across the globe. Served her right. Not to mention really weird things kept happening around me—power outages when I sneezed, the toilet exploding when I banged my toe. Sylvie claimed that it was a Wizarding Cold, if there is such a thing. It would've seemed a heck of a lot weirder if I didn't have so many other things on my mind.

Realizing how long I had been sitting, I lifted my trunk off the platform, dirtied black from years of grime, and started towards the shiny, scarlet train at the shrill sound of the warning whistle. Students bustled about me, already in their uniforms; girls with pleated grey tweed skirts, guys with grey slacks, and all with white dress shirts, grey vests, and ties. I dreaded that uniform.

Suddenly feeling conspicuous, I lowered my head in an attempt to make my lonesome-self invisible. With a huge effort, I heaved my overly packed luggage towards the mountain of baggage that was steadily growing and proceeded onto the train. I silently prayed that I would find an empty compartment, as others were boarding the train in bunches. Being around strange people made me slightly uncomfortable.

Avoiding the possibility of being trampled, I slid into the nearest compartment. It was vacant. I plopped onto the velvety crimson cushion, heaved a sigh and stared at my reflection in the window. Dark, curly hair framed my face. I hated my hair. I'd always wanted it to be a nice shade of light brown, like Sylvie's. My small, slightly pointed nose held up my sunglasses, which in turn, covered the features I despised most of all. My eyes.

My irises were a vibrant shade of violet. It was weird because no one in my family, let alone the world, had eyes such as mine. The realization of being so different caused me to start wearing dark glasses all the time, in order to avoid the stares. Though wearing the glasses did get me classified as ''Strange'' by my peers at Cygnus Academy, and otherwise demoted me to a reject, the lowest possible caste in social hierarchy.

Mom loathed my sunglasses and attempted the throw them in the garbage disposal a countless number of times while I was sleeping, until I charmed them to let out bloodcurdling screams when she touched them, thus waking me up. I chuckled to myself, remembering the first time that happened. She was so unbelievably angry with me. I was banned from dance and music classes for two weeks. That part of it wasn't so funny.

The train let out its final whistle, bringing me out of my reverie. The locomotive lurched forward. Noisily chugging out of the station, we began picking up speed and were soon zooming past towns and houses.

I inched farther back into my seat and leaned my head against the window, staring at a random spot on the wall. The second most frightful day of my life starting replaying in my head like a film, and I desperately tried to think of something else, tried to stop the furious flow of memories, but I couldn't control it.

Flashback

"I don't see why you're so bitter, Roxanne. It's just a stupid Quidditch match. There WILL be others!" Sylvie, balancing her Wizarding account, was confronting me about my resentful attitude that evening. Mom and Dad had refused to let me come to Dan's Quidditch match as it was a school night.
"F.Y.I. Sylvie, The U.S. only plays Brazil once each year. ONCE! The biggest rivals in the world are playing as we speak and I'm missing it!"

I repositioned my legs, which were curled up under me as I worked from the low coffee table in our small living room. I turned to my essay on the Goblin Upheaval of 1817. …In your opinion, how did the series of revolts affect the start of the Great Movement in 1819?… Tapping my pencil, I scanned Chapter 7, not really paying attention to what I was writing down, and soon Sylvie came up behind me and read over my shoulder.

"Wow, we HAVE been productive for the past hour!" she said sarcastically. "'The Gremlin Revolt of 1819 was'…oh, and look we have a Quidditch diagram which is in NO WAY related to gremlins!"

"Go away, freak," I retorted. I crumpled up my paper and tossed it over my shoulder. "It's a work in progress." But she was right, of course. I was totally distracted. Seeing as I was getting nowhere on my paper, I rested my chin in my hands and watched the rain pounding against the windows, sliding down the pane in tiny rivulets. What terrible weather for Quidditch!

I sat there for the next hour, simply ignoring my sister's instructions to finish my paper, blocking out her remarks about how I was going to end up a janitor at the Experimental Potions Center on the other side of town if I didn't apply myself to my studies.

I hoped Dan was okay. The wind was beginning to pick up. It was only his second year on the USA Quidditch team. He was one of the best beaters I ever did see, though there was no way he could ever surpass Julio Rodriquez from Brazil. I could never admit this to Dan, of course.

So I sat, staring into space, tuning out Sylvie's diminishing contradictions, my eyelids feeling gradually heavier…

…and heavier…

…slowly…ever so slowly…

…closing…

…mind…blanking…

RIIIING!

…eh…

RIIIING!

…huh?…

RIIIING!

…yawn…wha's'at…?

RIIIING!

"PICK UP THE PHONE, ROX!" My sister's command sent my hand spidering across the table, fumbling clumsily for the phone.

"H'llo?"

"Roxy, it's Mom." Her voice was higher pitched than was normal. A note of panic resounded within her greeting.

"We're at the hospital with Dan—" I dropped the receiver in shock. Mom's voice carried from the earpiece, but I barely heard anything.

"—Bludger accident—"

"—head trauma—"

"—tell Sylvie—"

"—stay home—" Yeah, like I was really going to do that! I grabbed my sweatshirt from the kitchen table, knowing perfectly well that it wasn't going to protect me from the rain. The phone was still off the hook, Mom still talking, calling my name. I made my way through the kitchen. I didn't bother to quiet my footsteps. To hell with the people below us.

"Where are you going? Your essay isn't done!" Sylvie made sure that I didn't get away so easily. She stood up from on of the bar stools lining the island in the middle of our kitchen.
"Hospital," I replied, my voice cracking. I wrenched open the door discovered the chain was still fastened, unlatched it rather roughly, and ran out into the hall. Just as before, Sylvie's cries were nothing but background noise…

End Flashback

The voice of a girl standing in the doorway had interrupted my thoughts. A slight cold sweat had to build up on my forehead. I dragged the sleeve of my black sweater across my brow, thankful the movie inside my head had ended, and turned my attention to the expectant individual.

"Huh?" I said stupidly.

"I was wondering if I could sit down here," she repeated.

I quickly scrutinized her. She was pale with rosy cheeks and pointed features. Her mahogany hair was chin length, tucked behind her ear. The hazel eyes looking at me sparkled with curiosity and good nature. Deeming the girl suitable after my 'inspection', if you will, I nodded my head, ever so slightly and turned back to the window. The scenery had changed to rolling countryside, and darks clouds threatened to unleash torrents of rain.

"I'm Jocelyn Frawley," the girl said, breaking the awkward silence, holding out her hand.

"Roxanne. Roxanne Carmichael," I answered, shaking it. I knew she noticed my sunglasses, but she didn't question them, which I was thankful for, as had so many before her.

"Are you an exchange student? Your accent is foreign." Jocelyn reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out some sort of orange pastry.

"Uh, yeah, I'm from the States."

"Really? That's so neat! I've never been outside Great Britain before! What part?" Jocelyn nibbled the corner of the orange pastry, reminding me of how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten anything since the small bit of toast at breakfast.

"New York," I replied and adjusted my sunglasses as a self-conscious reflex.

"I've always wanted to go there! It's one of the major wizarding capitals of the world! What's it like?"

"Well…uh…"I started, not knowing where to begin. Jocelyn's straightforward nature and eagerness to hear about New York threw me off a little bit. "…There are a lot of, er, buildings and skyscrapers that are, um, so tall that you can't see the top when you…put your head back as far as you possibly can to look up at them. The noise is so…I dunno…intoxicatingly overpowering that you walk outside just to hear it. And the people are so amazing! Wizards and witches from all over come to New York—from Great Britain, and Morocco and China…once, a wizard from Budapest came to our apartment asking for the Head of the Exploitation of Wizarding Concoctions who he needed to confront about a frog spawn incident—" I stopped.

"You must be so bored with my rambling." I was suddenly embarrassed. I rambled often. It would always get on the nerves of my peers, not to mention my teachers when they called on me to answer a question. Not to mention the memories were still quite painful to dwell on at the present time.

"No, no, I think it's great! America sounds so wonderful!" Jocelyn gushed. I smiled. My first real smile in…god, a year? And, come to think of it, when was the last time I had a friend who was a girl? Probably never, so being around a girl who was so easy to talk to (maybe even a potential friend) put me at ease and just made me feel a little bit more whole since…I didn't want to think about it.

I shut my mouth, not want to discuss the now uncomfortable subject of home, and Jocelyn, sensing me tense up, hastily changed the topic, and began telling me all about Hogwarts. The Houses and their rivalries were explained to me, especially the one between Gryffinclaw and Slytherpuff, or something like that, which Jocelyn talked about with such vigor and malice I thought she was going to break something, namely me.

"The passionate hatred between Gryffindor and Slytherin goes back many centuries." I knew I had mixed up the names! "I'm in Gryffindor myself."

"Really? I couldn't tell," I said sarcastically, rubbing my arm where she had smacked it every time she mentioned "those evil conniving prats", as she put it.

"Sorry, 'bout that. I get carried away sometimes." Jocelyn smiled sheepishly and blushed.

"It's okay. I think I'll live." And she went on, talking about the teachers, the classes, and such, occasionally interrupted by fits of giggles and shuffling feet passing our compartment. It was really getting on my nerves, and I frequently caught words like "…Oh my gosh he's so cute…" and "…they look, like, so great this year…" and even more often "…do you think he'd go out with me again, Denise?".

The noise was a bit irksome. Honestly, it sounded exactly like Laila Windsor from New York and her mindless cronies when they gossiped about the guys at Cygnus. But I kept my cool, that is, until excited shrieks pierced my skull. "WHAT THE HELL?" I shouted. I slid open the compartment door to see what all the screaming was about and leaned out.

A group of girls was attempting to crowd into one of the compartments, each female trying to wrestle her way through the throng.

"What in Gods name…?" I wondered.

The crowd was growing by the second. Another round of screams filled the tiny corridor, and a blonde haired girl with black roots pushed her way back of the compartment, her red-nailed hand holding her cheek. She had a giddy expression on her face. Upon reaching another "blonde" whom I assumed to be her friend, they burst out in animated conversation.

"He kissed my cheek! HE KISSED MY CHEEK!"

"Oh my gosh, you are, like, so lucky!" The hysteric giggling began again, and I was filled with the sudden urge to sock them both along with the rest of the female assembly gathered. Anything to get them to shut up. Without warning, another swarm of girls shuffled past me, jostling me this way and that, shouting rude remarks about how I was in their way. Fuming, and muttering profanity under my breath I returned to Jocelyn, who was looking at me with an amused expression on her face.

"You get used to it," she informed me matter-of-factly. We both glanced towards the door. Girls were still rushing to and fro.

"What was that about anyway?" I had never seen such a spectacle in my entire life.

"Two words: the Marauders." Jocelyn then offered me what she called a 'Pumpkin Pasty'. I took it gratefully, broke it in half, and slurped up the orange cream inside. As good as it was, it still was no comparison to cream-filled doughnuts.

"What's a Marauder?"

"You mean who." The Marauders are the four most desired bachelors at Hogwarts." The train gave a particularly nasty jolt, and we grasped the edge of our velvet-upholstered seats for stability. "The first Marauder is James Potter; biggest show off if there ever was one. But none of the girls seem to notice, since not only is he cute, even though he looks like he's never brushed his hair a day in his life, but he's also the best damn Seeker this school has ever seen."

"Then you've got Remus Lupin. He's the total opposite of James; the only tolerable one out of the lot-and the only one who has any common sense whatsoever. He is really quiet, but he doesn't need words to express his intelligence, and sensitivity, and generosity and-"

"Focus, Jocelyn! Focus!" I said waving my hand in front of her face, as she rattled off all of his redeeming qualities. Looked like someone had a little crush.

"Right, sorry," she answered, clearing her throat, her cheeks turning bright crimson. She continued, "Then you've got Pettigrew, who is the most irritating little bugger I have ever known. Oh, you know the type--short, chubby, no real friends so he follows the others around. A bit of a pervert, too."

"Then, last but not least, Sirius Black, perhaps the most gorgeous guy in the history of the world, the Sex God of Hogwarts. Dated practically every girl in the school. I'll be damned if there's one he HASN'T courted," She took a big bite. "The longest relationship he's ever had with a girl was two months, and even then it was on and off. Disgusting, really."

I wrinkled my nose in displeasure. I was not warming up to this Sirius character in the least bit. I silently prayed that I wouldn't have to bump into him, not that I would have the problem of him asking me out. I mean, I wasn't that attractive, anyway. Besides, all guys were the same. They only cared about girls with make-up caked visages and skirts the showed their butt when they bent over. I didn't exactly fit into that category.

I took a quick glance out the window, seeing if I could glimpse Hogwarts yet, whatever it looked like. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, threatening to release the moisture collected within.

Jocelyn went on. "But the female population couldn't care less. Some he's even been with six times. Such a player." If I ever dated someone like that, Mom and Dad would've killed me, not to mention that certain someone would be killed by my brother. I laughed inwardly. How protective Dan was, considering he was always telling me to follow in his footsteps as a beater (clashing with Mom and Dad's wish for me to become a wizarding bank official, of course), which I did gladly.

A small ray of sunshine peeped out from behind the barricade of sinister clouds that shadowed the sky, but was quickly repressed, as my happy thoughts developed into sorrowful ones—I gave up Quidditch. Oh how I loved it! But Dan's accident scared me so bad I couldn't play anymore. If only— "Roxanne, we're almost there. You might want to change into your uniform," Jocelyn said, indicating my torn jeans and black sweater. I sighed at the prospect of wearing a uniform, and reluctantly followed Jocelyn to scavenge for our trunks.

Fifteen minutes, and a clothes change later, we were back in the compartment. I constantly circled the small quarters looking over my shoulder, trying to glimpse my butt, which felt totally exposed. I hated, absolutely hated, wearing skirts. Especially shorter ones. This one fell two or three inches above the knee. I constantly fiddled with the grey, tweed garment in which I was confined until Jocelyn threatened to tie my hands behind my back if I continued to move around.

"Besides, you look great in that uniform." I grumbled under my breath in response. Skirts definitely sucked.

I attempted to pull my skirt down once more. Jocelyn gave me a warning look. I sat on my hands, so I wouldn't be tempted to adjust the stupid article of clothing. I stared back out the window and tapped my feet, now clad in chunky-heeled Mary Janes, out of my newfound anxiety (Sylvie had taken all of my sneakers out of my trunk and replaced them with shoes she found 'suitable'. I was going to kill her later). I couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous in my entire life. My knees quivered uncontrollably. I pressed them together in hopes of preventing the trembling.
Starting afresh was something completely new to me. I had lived in New York my whole life, gone to the same school since I was 5, lived in the same apartment, hung out with the same people. But now, I had to build up a new life from scratch. I had to be around new people, who I knew nothing about, and vice versa. I was to live in an unfamiliar place, totally the opposite of what I was used to, and that was scary. Terrifying, really.

I rubbed my temples. My head had started to throb painfully. I hated change.

"Are you okay?" Jocelyn's hazel eyes were filled with concern. I didn't want her sympathy.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just nerves, I guess."

The train began to slow. Its improperly oiled wheels screeched. It was time to see my home for the next nine and a half months. Students filed out of their compartments, chattering amiably with one another. Keeping my head down, I followed, Jocelyn right behind me. I stepped off the smoking locomotive and looked up…