September 1, 2015
Rory's eyes blinked open to a cruelly bright light streaming into her eyes through the east-facing window. She yelped as she covered her eyes with her hand and patted the coffee table in a blind search for her phone. In the process, she rolled off the sofa and onto the unforgiving floor with a thud. She groaned, pushed herself up into a sitting position, and rubbed her eyes until she no longer saw sun spots. With her vision restored, she finally found her phone. It was 10:15. She had slept much longer than she had anticipated, and anxiety jolted through her as she realized that if her boss had responded she needed to work today, she would be late. She quickly unlocked her phone and refreshed her email, sighing with relief when she noticed the text "okay," beneath the subject line of Maria's response.
Rory stood, sliding the phone into her back pocket. She was stiff from eleven hours of motionless sleep, so she stretched as she made a mental list of items to pack for her day off.
1. Her phone in case Odi called
2. Its charger, too, so that she wouldn't drain her battery
3. A jacket; Long-distance trains were often air conditioned to the point where they could probably support ice rinks without too much extra effort
4. Money in case she was hungry.
5. If she ate, she would probably wish to brush her teeth, so she should also bring a toothbrush and toothpaste.
6. Her travel card; if she forgot it, she would have to pay for tickets to determined destinations, and she did not have the forethought to plan such frivolous aspects of a day trip.
When Rory finished stretching, she unplugged her electronics, and stuffed them into a sky blue rucksack she normally stashed behind the sofa. Then, she removed a frozen waffle from the freezer and stuffed it in her mouth. She walked to her pine dresser, pulled at a few drawers, and grabbed the topmost items of clothing: pink capris and an army green v-neck with three-quarter sleeves. She chuckled to herself as she realized that she had decided to wear three-quarter sleeves to explore platform 9 ¾.
After she hurriedly changed and zipped her bag, she shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers and slung her bag over her shoulder. She was halfway out the door of the flat when she realized that she had not brought the book she was reading, Carl Sagan's Cosmos, so she ran back inside to retrieve it. She returned to the door, swinging it shut and locking it behind her, before heaving her bag onto her back and skipping excitedly toward the train station.
As she walked into the familiar, brick-walled train station, she was overwhelmed by the buzz of travelers. It was just as crowded as the restaurant had been crowded the night before. Rory could barely see the cement floor because of the plethora of feet and luggage of all kinds: suitcases, duffel bags, a few trunks, and even some bird cages.
She shoved her way toward the arrivals board, over which stood a large, digital clock that read "10:50 pm" in neon green. She scanned the board for any trace of platform 9 ¾, but all she saw were arrival announcements for platforms 9 and 10. She swiveled around and stumbled toward the area between the big plastic 9 and the big plastic 10.
When she finally reached the iron barrier and stepped through, she expected the embrace of a sudden silence. However, platform 9 ¾ was louder than the rest of the station. She raised her eyebrows and opened her eyes to a tunnel buzzing with activity. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the swarm of people, and a sign overhead said "Hogwarts express, eleven o'clock." Hogwarts? Rory wondered who would ever give such a revolting name to a place.
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound between their legs. One ginger cat stopped and purred at Rory's feet, and its color instantly reminded her of Odi. She leaned down to pet her furry friend, but before she could make contact, the cat leaped away to chase a fleeting pair of boots. Owls hooted at one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks. About half of the crowd were dressed in the strange ponchos she had seen at the restaurant the night before, and everyone above the age of ten or eleven was sporting some sort of twig. She watched as a chubby, middle-aged woman with a twig behind her ear leaned down to hug a shaggy-haired teenage boy who had a twig protruding from his rear pocket, and Rory laughed when the boy's face crinkled in discomfort. On her left, a girl with blond pigtails was trying to wrestle a twig away from an older girl with matching features and a twig dangling out of her jacket pocket.
Rory found herself smiling; the merriment on the platform was contagious. Kids between the ages of eleven and eighteen bounced with excitement and pulled their parents nearer to the scarlet. At 10:58, the platform was virtually void of teenagers, and Rory decided that if she were to learn where this mysterious train went, she would have to leave pronto. After all, she still could not find an official train schedule. Rory shook her head and glanced longingly at the wrought iron archway, which she had not yet investigated. She shrugged, deciding that with such a crowd, inspecting the platform entrance would be disruptive anyway. Besides, she thought, these people probably knew how it worked, so she could just ask one of them. With that, she turned back toward the steam engine and glided through its doors.
The inside of the Hogwarts Express was unfamiliar to Rory also. Rows of seats were replaced by several compartments separated from the grey walkway by sliding, glass doors. The seats inside were covered in blue velvet. As far as Rory could see, there were no empty compartments. She figured that it was for the best; she had so many questions about the platform and the mysterious destination, and she could not ask them to an empty room.
She approached a compartment in which four red-clad teens were engrossed in conversation. A girl with curly red hair was pointing at an article in a newspaper with her twig. The newspaper was unusual also. It appeared to display short videos instead of photographs. Did the paper somehow have computer screens sewn into it? That did not seem a plausible explanation, since the paper did not seem to droop as if it were weighed down by such technology. Rory decided that she would knock and ask. She pounded her fist against the glass door three times.
A dark-haired girl in a red and black poncho rolled the door open, and, with a bored expression, stared at Rory's shirt. "What do you want?" she asked. Rory thought the girl was being rather cold, but she continued anyway.
"Hello! I was wondering if I could sit with you?" Rory greeted cheerfully.
Everyone in the compartment paused their conversation and turned to Rory to glare. After a minute, a boy with greased back, shoulder-length brown hair raised his eyebrows and frowned.
"Ew no," he scoffed.
The boy with shaggy black hair seated across from him nodded, explaining, "We don't sit with anyone wearing those colors."
"Slither back to your hole, snake," sneered the girl with curly red hair.
The girl with dark hair simply smirked and rolled the glass door closed in front of Rory's face.
"Well that was rude," Rory muttered to herself before walking deeper into the train car. She vowed to only approach compartments with open doors, assuming that people in those compartments would be more sociable.
As she walked toward the pack of the first car, the train lurched forward, and she stumbled into a glass pane of a green-clad compartment. "Snakes," she repeated in her head, connecting the green color to the name the red-clad group had spat at her. The sandy-haired boy just inside the compartment jumped from the thunk of Rory's fall before turning to her and laughing. He had a wide grin that stretched between his ears and twinkling eyes. Rory felt blood rush to her cheeks, but she couldn't resist smiling, too. His amusement was magnetic, and she had to admit that her fall was pretty funny.
After she steadied herself, Rory continued down the aisle into the second car. She passed several compartments with open doors, but they were filled with eleven-year-olds binging on candy, and she did not desire the company of children on sugar highs, so she proceeded into the third car. Eventually, she passed an open door that led into a compartment of yellow-clad teens. She looked up toward the sky and hoped that only people wearing red would reject her based on the color of the clothing, and then she knocked on the door frame.
The entire compartment paused their conversation and turned to smile at Rory.
"Greetings!" squealed a girl in a yellow sun dress. Her strawberry blond hair was woven intricately in a braid that trailed halfway down her back, and she held a black poncho in her lap. Her twig had been poked through her braid.
"What's your name?" asked a girl who sat across from her. This black-haired girl wore a black poncho with a yellow accent and had a fashionable pixie-cut. She had her twig in her left hand.
"I'm Rory," she said, and offered her hand for a handshake. However, instead of shaking her hand, the black-haired girl grabbed it and pulled her onto the seat next to her.
"I'm Debbi," said the black-haired girl.
"And I'm Isla," said the girl in the yellow sun dress. "This is Tyler, she said, gesturing to the smiling boy in a poncho seated on her left. He has spiky, copper hair and a yellow bow tie.
"What house are you in?" he inquired.
Isla shoved him. "She's in Slytherin, obviously."
Rory was confused. Slytherin? Was that gibberish?
Debbi shook her head and gazed toward Rory, smile plastered to her face. "I'm so jealous. I'd look so good in green. Or red. Really anything but this," She gestured to her yellow and black poncho. "Sadly, I was sorted into Hufflepuff, so I have to wear yellow." Sorted? Hufflepuff? What was she talking about?
Rory nodded her head, unsure what to make of the conversation. She wiped her hands against her legs nervously and looked down at her feet, trying to avoid crafting a direct response to Debbi. The compartment was starting to feel very small very quickly.
Luckily, Isla saved Rory from responding, "Omigod, I saw the most darling earrings in Diagon Alley yesterday! Jewelry is always better when it's made in London..." Diagon Alley? Rory tried to recall a map that included this place, but she was pretty sure it didn't exist.
Tyler changed the subject. "I can't wait until school starts! What classes are you guys taking this year?" School? Rory had gotten on a train headed to a school? All of a sudden, the fact that all of the people on the train were around her age made sense. Even the weird name, Hogwarts, became less weird with this understanding.
Isla started bouncing. She had too much energy. "I'm taking Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. Oooh that should be so fun! I'm really looking forward to Charms, too, but I' a little nervous about Arithmancy, because I'm usually not too good at maths…" she rambled. Rory was confused. She had heard of Arithmancy before as a numerical technique fortune tellers used to scam people. Why would a school teach it? Was it a school for cult children? Isla continued, "Just think: we'll be at school in just under four hours! I am so excited. What classes are you taking, Debbi?"
Debbi started bouncing again. And clapping. "I'm in Care of Magical Creatures, too! We must be in the same class!" she burst. Magic? Rory decided she had gotten on a train of crazy people, but she continued listening politely to the group's fast, high-pitched conversation for what felt like a few hours before she finally excused herself to the loo and exited the compartment.
As soon as she was back in the aisle, she gave up on finding a compartment that didn't either call her names or speak gibberish. She darted to the space where the aisle widened between cars one and two, and sat on the grey rubber tread. She unzipped her bag and removed her book, opening it to page 1. This was going to be a long train ride, but at least she had 365 pages of Sagan's Cosmos to help her through it.
