Two days had passed since I arrived at the Parkinsons', and it was now September first, the day we were to go to King's Cross Station for the express to Hogwarts. I was very excited. I shook out my limbs in excitement and anticipation as I stared at the brick wall between platforms nine and ten. The muggles passing by paid no mind to my antics.
As I ran through the wall to the other side to get to Platform 93/4, I met the gaze of my extended family who had gone before me. They looked at me, not saying a word, then turned to walk further down the platform. I followed suit until my family broke off as we made our way into the thick of the crowd.
I squeezed my way through the horde of students and their families to find a clearing large enough to breathe. I set my luggage down flat on the concrete, careful not to lay it on Oregano's paws. Picking her up, I hugged her to my chest, taking a step atop my luggage to see over the crowd and looked around for where my family could have gone. I circled in my spot a few times over.
Finally, as a large group of red-heads moved, I found them. They were maybe six or so meters away from where I stood. My Auntie Radella and Uncle Morton were huddled against a pillar talking sternly to my cousin Pansy. From the looks of it, they were telling her something private, I couldn't make out what was being said, but I didn't care too much until I caught Uncle Morton's eye. His brown eyes were cold, and his brows furrowed, as he slowly turned away from me, putting his arm around Pansy's shoulders to have her turn with him, then their discussion quickly ceased. I was now curious. Did I make them stop talking by just noticing them?
The train whistle blew, and I stumbled off the top of my luggage, quickly trying to get on board as the train conductor called out for all the remaining students to board the express. Many students had very touching goodbyes; however, I did not. My parents were kilometers away. I felt my nose begin to run from emotions overwhelming me, but I quickly sucked it up when I heard my name being called by Auntie Radella. I turned to look at her as I waited my turn to board.
"Y/N, dear, you behave yourself, okay, you sweet little creature?" she said, patting my cheek with a thin smile. "Send an owl if you ever need anything." She bopped my nose and looked at her daughter Pansy. "Remember what we discussed," and with that, she took her husband's arm in hers, and they were off, disappearing in the crowd of parents.
I held Oregano tightly in my arms, taking a deep breath, and forced a smile on my face as I finally boarded the train right behind Pansy. I was excited about the train ride. The peaceful silence and scenery were always very calming to me.
Pansy found a compartment almost immediately with her house-mates, but she quickly closed the door on me so I couldn't follow. I didn't really mind all that much. I made my way to the very back of the train, as every compartment was already occupied except for the second to last compartment. I made my way inside, set my luggage on the top rack, and sat myself and Organo down. I didn't have many friends, so I often sat in a compartment by myself. It was much better for Oregano anyhow, as she was quite a skittish cat. She didn't much like anyone else and had a nasty tendency to hiss and scratch at others.
I remembered when I first got her, she was a small, frail-looking kitten off to the side of the walkway in Diagon Alley. I was surprised that I even spotted her, huddled in the corner, seeing as I was so much in awe from seeing that such a world as this could ever exist. I was so incredibly thankful that I could now call the wizarding world–and her–my own. Not to make it sound like I didn't love living with my parents and living as they did - as muggles - because I did; my social and academic lives hadn't changed much for the better or worse, either. Just only now, I knew for sure there was magic, and I was no longer bullied for believing it existed. It was truly a relief to know once I got my Hogwarts Letter.
My father, even as a muggle, considered himself a witch, but only in terms of the Muggle religion of Paganism. In his belief, all practitioners are called witches, no matter if they are female or male. For whatever reason, they believe the term 'wizard' to be quite childish. My mother, on the other hand, told me on the day I received my letter that she had grown up in the wizarding world and how she was so thrilled for me. However, she'd never seemed to bother with performing magic herself as I did now; she only kept herself to the novel arts of divination and herbalism like my father.
Many people in our small muggle suburb thought us to be mad, insane even, so not many parents would allow their children to come anywhere near my family, or me, for that matter. They would almost rather have risked getting hit by a car on the street than walk on the sidewalk on our front garden. The town thought us to be foul, devil-worshipping monsters. One family in particular, though, was quite extraordinarily nasty towards us. They lived six houses up the road from us on Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. It was an odd-looking family of four, consisting of a large beefy man with very little neck, a bony and horse-faced woman, a pig-faced boy with many chins, and a small disheveled boy in clothes many sizes too big for him; the boys both about the same age as myself.
I had never had an actual conversation with any of them, but the fat, pig-faced boy seemed to love to taunt the scrawny boy a lot. A few times, he would push the timid boy into me while at recess and howl with laughter. "HAHAHA! Here's a perfect girl for you! A freak with another freak!" he'd bellow, turning his squashed and stubby nose up at the boy and me. A few encounters like this happened. I didn't let it bother me much; I did, however, feel really bad for the boy. I wonder where he is now. I let out a lonesome sigh and read my head on the glass of the window, staring out as the trees rushed by.
My head shot up as I heard the compartment door slide wide open, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked to see who it may have been. My face must've been wrinkled with confusion for the tall blond who stood there scoffed. "Tch, what are you looking at?" the boy spat, his pointed nose wrinkled with disgust.
"You're the one that walked in on me," I spoke up, furrowing my brows.
"Don't - How dare you speak to me like that!" he snarled, his cold grey eyes burning with immense disapproval. "Filthy creature," he huffed, eyeing my cat, before slamming the compartment door behind him as he left.
I glanced at Oregano; she was in a very defensive position, continuously hissing at the door even though the pale boy was long gone. I got up to sit next to her and calm her down. I'd seen the boy around numerous times, we shared many classes, and he always made his presence known. I didn't necessarily like nor dislike him because he had never noticed my existence before; therefore, I was never the target of his vicious games. Just now was the first time I'd ever looked him straight in the face or exchanged words.
I went to stand up to pull down the compartment door blinds as I heard a very sharp but familiar and joy-inducing squealing rolling down the train's corridor. The sweets trolley! I beamed with excitement and felt for my money in my pocket. With coins in hand, I opened the compartment door turning towards where the noise was coming from. However, a strangely familiar-looking boy caught my gaze, the trolley woman appeared between the two of us. He had messy dark hair and bright green eyes, which emitted as much excitement as mine behind his round glasses. He gave me a shy yet sweet smile. I returned the gesture, feeling my cheeks slightly grow a touch warm.
"Harry!" A feminine voice came from his compartment. His head turned towards the voice, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he jerked. He turned back towards the Trolley woman, "One galleon worth of Cauldron Cakes, please," he said, handing the single galleon to the woman. He looked back at me and gave me another smile before returning to his compartment.
"Do you want anything, dear?" A rough crackly old voice called to me. I reverted my attention back to the old trolley woman. I smiled sheepishly at her, and she let out a soft giggle. "Sweet boy, that Potter is," she stated with a knowing tone.
I let out an uncomfortable laugh and nodded, "One Pumpkin Pasty, please." I handed her the needed amount of coins, and she made her way back down the thin corridor.
Potter, Harry Potter? I thought to myself, unknowingly smiling at the name. I sat back down and tucked a bit of hair behind my ear before unwrapping the pumpkin pasty. I sat staring at the pastry with small butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. The name was so familiar to me, and then it struck me: The Boy Who Lived! The famous Harry Potter! My heart pounded with excitement, having finally - but unofficially - met Harry Potter.
Outside my compartment, I could hear a small group of boys laughing from the room across from where I sat. They weren't good laughs, either. Seconds later, I saw two boys pass by the window, one short and stout, the other tall and built like a gorilla. I knew those two, they were always accompanied by - and there he was, the pale boy from earlier. He must've felt my eyes on him because his piercing eyes met mine. I felt my face grow a bit redder, but this was from pure discomfort. The corner of the boy's lips twitched in annoyance, and he kept walking.
I sternly stood up and harshly closed the compartment's blinds. I was tired of people looking at me and catching me off guard. I let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the door. I eyed my trunk and figured I might as well get dressed in my uniform, as we were nearly halfway there.
Rain started to pelt down loudly on the metal of the train and glass of the windows. The fog grew thick and rain droplets quickly streaming down obscuring the view. I was finishing getting ready, putting on my black trainers when, without warning, I fell back into my seat as the Express started to slow down, the screeching of the braking wheels flooded my ears, I covered them tightly. It was unbearable. Finally, we halted to an abrupt stop, the high-pitch noise ceasing. The luggage in the top grate shuffled harshly, almost breaking out of its harness.
A sharp painful shiver crawled quickly down my spine. My shoulders tensed up backwards. I raised my head to look out the window. The wet surface and streaks of rain started to frost over in haste. I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping at my robes tightly in efforts to stay warm as the temperature drastically declined. I could feel my fingertips and nose becoming numb. My breath became shaky. It was more out of fear than the freezing temperature. I let out a low exhale through my blued lips, and my breath formed a cloud in front of me. I glanced at Organo who was hissing hysterically towards the window.
The dim yellowed lights of the Express turned on, their buzzing giving me a sense of false warmth but started to flicker. My skin began to crawl with anxiety. I glanced out the window once more. A hazy black phantom appeared right before me outside. I stumbled backward, falling onto my back. About to scream, I was interrupted by the thought and fear of attracting it any further. I covered my mouth in terror, looking at the black figure out my window; it felt as if it were examining me. Its hooded head jerked towards the side then the express lights went out. The compartment was pitch black; I couldn't even see my hand that was right in front of me. I stumbled to get up to my feet. My joints felt as if they were filled with splintering ice. I reopened my blinds to see if the situation was any different in the corridor, but it was not. Everything was dark, and everyone was curious as to why I heard low murmurs and stumbling in the corridor.
A few minutes past and the lights flickered back on, and the express started moving once more. Relief should have filled me, but I felt nothing but cold terror deep inside me, and it was awful.
