Hogwarts. A school renowned for its talented teachers and students; one student in particular: Harry Potter. In the wizarding world his name was a household name. I myself grew up hearing his name at least five, if not more, times a day. A name synonymous with courage, intelligence and often times fear. After all, he had defeated Voldemort as an infant when countless wizards had died in the attempt. And now he and I were attending the same school.
My journey began peaceably enough. The Sisters of the Bleeding Heart had me pack my brand new robes the night before so I would be ready to leave at dawn. Having not been able to touch new cloth in such a long time, the Sisters had to threaten not to send me if I didn't pack. Needless to say, I didn't see the robes until I arrived at Hogwarts. After walking to the train station and being lectured on the rites of the rosary and the sins of pride and gluttony that easily overcame boarding students, I stepped through the boundary onto Platform 9 ¾ and out of the grasp of the Sisters.
For a moment I stood transfixed. The gleaming Hogwarts Express sat before me, steam spewing forth from the underbelly as it waited impatiently to begin its own journey yet again. Students were milling around the platform, greeting friends, introducing parents and leaving parents. First years were teary at the thought of being away from home and as yet another first year hurried past me with streaming eyes I felt my heart give an unfamiliar jerk. My own parents—
"WATCH OUT!" a voice yelled behind me. I turned just in time to see a luggage trolley before it careened into my side and knocked me to the ground. My head hit the brick floor and a ghost of a memory flitted across my eyes, but darkness whisked it away before it was fully formed.