I'm expected to walk through a brick wall. An enchanted brick wall to Platform 9 3/4 where I catch a train and ride off to meet my ultimate destruction (but I'm not stressed or anything).

The wall and I engage each other in a staring contest, both knowing who the winner will be.

"It's not hard!" My new friend Anne had told me. "Just close your eyes and run. Here, watch me." So I did as I was told and watched as my first real British friend ran headlong into a solid brick wall. To my dismay, I didn't get the crash I was expecting: Anne completely owned that wall. It's not that I don't like Anne, oh no. Her excessive friendliness kept me from self destruction when I first got to Maidenhead two days ago. She brought me brownies and offered to take me to get my school supplies. But as much as I like her, I still think it'd be really entertaining to see her run into a wall.

Suddenly a pale hand comes through the wall and grabs me, almost giving me a heart attack. It pulls me through, where I am greeted by Anne's smiling face. I give her a shaky smile and try to catch my breath.

"See? It wasn't that bad!" she laughs, leading me through the crowd of people to the large, smelly red train.

I keep my head down so I don't accidentally make eye contact with someone. I shove my shaking hands in my pockets so no one knows I am nervous. New school, new first impressions; I guess seeming stuck up is a bit better than seeming timid.

I follow Anne through the train and into one of those little room-y thingies. I don't even notice all the other people until Anne starts introducing them. I smile and wave after every introduction, but forget all their names almost immediately.

I sit down in between Anne and a window daydreaming and trying to make time go faster.

"So where are you from?" a tall brown-haired boy asks. I think his name is Bogo or something equally strange.

"Michigan," I mutter.

"You're American?" He seems amused by that which makes me angry.

"What's wrong with Americans?" I ask, looking him directly in the eye. It may not be the best idea to start picking fights with boys who could probably take me down in less than thirty seconds, but at least I'm making eye contact; that's a small step in the right direction.

"Nothing, we just don't get many foreigners around here."

Oh that's right… I'm a commodity now.

"So, do you know what house you're in?" a little blond kid says.

"House?" I have a habit of cocking my head like a kitten when I'm confused, which earns me either a laugh or a puzzled look from almost everyone in the compartment.

"Houses are like…" He pauses, obviously never having had to describe houses before. "They're like the people you live with and go to classes with and eat with and who are pretty much your family at Hogwarts."

"You don't have houses at your school?" Anne asks me.

"We have dorms, but I don't think that's the same."

The conversation slowly moves away from me, and I'm grateful for it. My wonderful parents forgot that I would be going to school with a killer case of jetlag when they booked our flight. I rest my head against the window and take a little cat nap.

Someone pokes me in the side and I jump. A chorus of giggles erupts from whoever was rude enough to wake me.

"Bethany!" It was Anne. She may not know it yet, but she's dead. "The food trolley is here… want something?"

My ears perk at the word 'food' and I jump off the seat.

"Sure!" I pause, checking my pockets. Damn it, I'm broke. "But I don't have any money."

"Oh, I'll buy you something." Aww, Anne is so sweet! Too bad I have to publicly humiliate her.

"I'll have… um… whatever." She nods and walks out for a second, coming back with an armful of food. She hands me a pumpkin thing and place the rest of the food in a pile next to her.

"Anyone want a chocolate frog?" she asks.

The blond boy from earlier takes a box from her and opens it. I'll say one thing for these chocolate frogs—they live up to their name. The frog literally leaps out of the box and onto my head. In a knee-jerk reaction I squeak and brush it off and onto the floor. The blond boy pounces on the poor thing. Staring at it for second he then stuffs the whole thing into his mouth, one solitary leg sticking out over his lip.

Everyone begins to talk again as the excitement of the frog situation begins to wear off. Anne and that Bogo kid leave, so I lie down on the seat and use a scrunched up sweatshirt as a pillow. The train rumbles obnoxiously under my head. I wonder how anyone is supposed to sleep with all this noise.