CHAPTER TWO: THE WOODEN TRUNK
Harry listened to the rain pour down on the windowpane. He tried not to fall asleep, but at least Dudley wasn't there to torture him about it. He kept having the same nightmare, Voldemort's flattened face, Cedric being murdered, the corpse staring vacantly at him. Dust floated in the thin ray of moonlight. For once he ignored the burning of his scar.
One more night to go. One more night to -he slipped into his usual nightmare. Voldemort was brandishing his wand like a sword, about to strike. He desperately looked behind him as he began to get smaller and smaller, the dark lord was looming over him. Then he appeared in a long windowless hallway with one door on the end. He ran for it as his head swam. Then he lunged toward a doorknob. In the room he saw a faint glimmer behind him. The glimmer clarified and revealed itself as a bench. He leapt at it, instinctually expecting a way out, and then he saw a figure sitting next to him on the bench. The thing was wearing black robes that made it look eerily like a small dementor. It turned around and looked him in the eye.
"Wake up, Wake up!" Hemione screamed as she shook him viciously.
He was drenched in sweat and his heart was pounding rapidly.
"We're going to be late!"
Harry made a mad dash for the stairs. He was finally going to leave the old damp house and the shrilly-screaming portrait behind. He was going home.
Lyra rolled over in her sleep.
"Will," she muttered, "are you sure your daemon 'ent a cupcake?"
She woke with a thud on the hard brick pavement at the edge of Platform 9. Her misty eyes opened lazily as she saw the high arched ceilings at King's Cross Station. She got up stiffly and stood quickly enough to see a few children about a year younger than her walk through the wall separating platforms nine and ten. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. More people walked through the wall, this time they were two boys and a girl. One boy having black hair and a scar on his forehead while the other had fiery red hair. The girl's hair was light brown and matted. She cringed when she saw that the boys' daemons, both owls, were kept in cages while the girl's tawny cat daemon roamed free. She followed the three through the wall and onto Platform nine and three quarters.
The train was about to leave and she knew that they would spot her without them. She had learnt a thing or two from Will.
"Here are some reinforcements for your robes and books. I also packed you an extra wand, so don't come crying to me if you lose it,"
said an old woman to who she guessed to be her grandson. She handed him a small wooden trunk. He put it down for just a minute to
fish his pocket for a ticket. Lyra slid over to the trunk and snatched it before he even knew what hit him. She knew she had just found
a one way ticket out of her world.
end of chapter two
CHAPTER THREE: FRED, GEORGE, AND THE FUGITIVE