Beautiful Uncertainty
Disclaimer: Wislawa Szymborska's beautiful, beautiful poem—"Love at First Sight"—is definitely not mine. Of course, all Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling.
So, to cut it down to three small words: NOTHING IS MINE.
A/N: The poem is beautiful. I highly, highly suggest you to read it.
They're both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
—Wislawa Szymborska
She was lost in the crowd, swerving this way and that with her ponderous trolley. And not just lost in the thick throng of passengers, but her mind was lost. She was looking for a place that simply did not exist. A world that did not exist.
But it's all here! The books, the robes, the trolley full of school supplies from Diagon Alley. That all existed, right?
She sighed and stared at a young man dressed in navy, pointing directions to an elderly couple to a different platform. Maybe he would know where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was?
That's what she thought when her mum had asked the other four, too. Sighing resignedly, she rolled her trunk over to a bench and plopped down. A funny looking lady with frighteningly blond hair sat at the very edge of other end and eyed her golden owl suspiciously.
Her mum was still staring at the sign hanging above her, proclaiming Platform Nine. Her expression was one of utter loss. A loss for words, direction, and comfort for her daughter. She sat down beside her and put an arm around her.
He sauntered, as much as an eleven-year-old could saunter, assured of himself, ahead of his parents, eager to get to his destination. This was the year. His year. He'd been looking forward to September 1st ever since that letter.
He reached the barrier between the two platforms and waited, almost impatiently, for his parents to catch up. They seemed to be trying to take as long as humanly possible. As his bored fingers drummed on his trunk, his gaze wandered to a woman gently smoothing out the wavy locks of a girl—her daughter, he assumed. She was closing her eyes and leaning in her mother's chest tiredly.
He looked up and suddenly saw his father there, patting his head and smiling in encouragement.
He glanced back at the girl. Her hand was on a trolley. A trolley not much different from his own, loaded with a trunk and topped with an owl cage.
A Muggleborn. That's who she was!
His mum followed his gaze and seemed to immediately understand. She approached with a warm smile and gestured towards her own son.
Her mum gently pulled her to her feet and urged her small hands on her trolley. She gingerly walked over to where the boy and his father were standing.
Their gazes locked.
It felt like a jolt, a bit of an odd feeling, really. Like when you simultaneously raise your eyes to meet a stranger's. You don't look away, because an inexplicable magnet draws you in and refuses to let you break free. You jerk your head back a bit in the strange feeling of it, as if to resist.
He cocked his head to the side and grinned toothily. She looked away as a shy smile spread on her freckled face.
What was that? Her mind echoed with the question. She had never looked at someone, anyone, and felt that jolt, that spark. It was strange, uncalled for, unusual. It made her feel squirmish inside. And yet, it was a good feeling. She wondered what this all meant. Maybe he had magical powers.
They exchanged brief greetings as his mum calmly explained to hers the procedures to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
She looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingers, rubbing a faintly purple bruise on her knuckle. He couldn't stop staring at her hair. It was so orange. She glanced up at him, just to glimpse a second look, a good look, at his thin features, and her pretty little pale cheeks tinged pink at his unwavering stare.
It was a bit funny, almost. The other was unlike any other person either of the two had met.
Hazel eyes, glassy behind spectacles, bony features, hair that resembled a black overused feather duster, ink-colored hair sticking up everywhere. Tumbling waves of orange, pale skin sprinkled with freckles, eyes like the dewy, grassy yard where he flew around on his new broomstick yesterday.
He shook his head a bit to break himself from the trance. His mouth opened and out tumbled blurts of attempted conversation. She smiled vaguely, amused by his talk.
Their mothers ended their conversation suddenly, realizing that the time of departure was nearing. Her mum clutched her in a hug, whispering a goodbye to her precious little girl that would, in a minute, be off in a world that she couldn't possibly imagine.
He grinned confidently as he suddenly swerved his cart and ran straight into the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten. A small gasp escaped her lips, as her mum watched in awe.
With a bit of urging and a gentle push, she finally turned to face the solid brick wall. Maybe this was all foolish nonsense! She'll end up with a big purple bruise on her head and a crowd of people staring at her.
Squeezing her eyes shut tight before she changed her mind, she swerved slowly and started to run. Left, right, left, right.
The crash against the solid brick wall never came. A murmur of voices suddenly met her ears, and she opened her eyes to a world of wonder.
Here she was. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the sign swinging above her proclaimed proudly.
People were everywhere! Children, just like her. They were boarding that long, long scarlet train, shining brightly in the September sun. Parents, meddling over their kids one last time, fussing here and there. A grey cat streaked by, and she jumped back in surprise.
She looked up in the direction in which the cat disappeared and met a pair of shining hazel eyes.
Another jolt.
She blinked a couple times and wheeled over.
"Just wait till we get there!" he whispered excitedly in her ear, his wide grin radiating with excitement.
A promise. It was a promise of the amazing things just waiting for her at Hogwarts.
She smiled in reply.
"Let's go, then."
Finis
A/N: I know all the pronouns are really confusing. My apologies. This is a bit different from anything I've done, so reviews are very much appreciated.
.mische.