Train stations are awful. I mean this in as broad a way as possible. Very rarely are people so needlessly rude than when they've gotten up early and need to get somewhere quickly. The whole process seems to make monsters of all but the friendliest and most patient people, of whom I did not – and do not – consider myself a member. I walked tensely, with a white-knuckle grip on my trolley, my fingernails digging into my skin. The noise of the trains and people scurrying about like rats raked at my brain and made it difficult to think about anything else.
"Are you alright?" asked Frank from beside me. She was pushing a two-seat stroller with one hand while Abigail was latched onto the other.
"I think I just hate crowds," I grumbled, not entirely unaware that I was reacting disproportionately
"Hang in there," she said. "It's not much further. See that barrier between platforms nine and ten? All we have to do is walk straight on through it and we'll be on your platform."
"Do you think-" I cut myself off because I wasn't sure how the question would come across, but then went ahead anyway. "Do you think I could go through on my own?" I looked at the three small children Frank was dragging along and she seemed to get the message.
"Go on ahead," she said with a smile and a bit of an eye roll. "I won't embarrass you in front of the other eleven year olds."
"Thanks," I said bashfully. "I'll make sure to write!" I called as I walked quickly towards the barrier. I approached the barrier as quickly as I could without hitting anyone, but I couldn't help hesitating before walking straight into what really seemed to be solid metal. I held my breath (as though that alone would prevent the laws of physics from functioning as normal) and the next minute I was on platform nine and three quarters. The train was already there and now – now that I could see it – I felt myself relax. I did wish I had arrived earlier because the crowd continued to be quite dense on the platform. I looked around, trying to see if I recognized any of the kids who were there based on their book descriptions. There was a curly-haired girl there with muggle parents who I thought might have been Hermione, but it was harder to apply book descriptions to real life people than I thought, though I was confident I would be able to recognize a Malfoy or a Weasley at a glance.
In fact, I was sure I had entered the station just shortly before the Weasleys, because several red-headed kids began streaming in through the barrier. Keeping my distance, I watched the wall carefully. Soon, a scrawny boy with round glasses and dark hair came rushing through, his eyes closed tight. It's Harry freakin' Potter. I couldn't suppress an excited smile, but then I turned around to board the train. As I entered the train car with my trunk, it was strange being able to list things I was about to hear before I heard them. "Gran, I've lost my toad again", "Give us a look Lee", and (after a short while) "want a hand?"
I felt a shiver at that last one. Harry and either Fred or George Weasley are right in front of me. I'd forgotten that, in the books, he'd looked for a seat from the outside of the train and walked around to the back. More to the point, I thought. That means there are no empty seats left. I'll have to choose someone to sit with. Deciding I didn't want to mess with the main story too much while still new to this whole thing, I turned on my ankle and began lugging my trunk back down the train.
After a short distance, I had to set my trunk down for a moment to catch my breath, wishing I'd done as Harry had and kept it on my trolley until the last moment. Finally, not wanting to be out in the hall for too long out of self-consciousness, I opened the first compartment I saw with an empty space. Inside were two girls chatting excitedly and waving out the window at their families. One was a round faced girl (I assumed a first year), whose pretty black hair fell in waves around her shoulders. The other, wearing her dark blonde hair in a tight braid, didn't look away from the window when I walked in.
"Is it okay if I sit in here?" I asked. The black haired girl responded by gesturing indifferently to the seat across from her, so that's where I sat. "My name's Branchus Ash," I said, not wanting to sit in silence the whole trip. The blonde girl finally looked over at me.
"Branchus?" she said, sounding confused. "You're a boy?"
"Um, yes?" I said. I caught my reflection in the window to see if I looked particularly feminine. I didn't think I did, but I supposed my high ponytail might make people assume I was a girl. It can be hard to tell, particularly with kids.
"Er, sorry," the girl said, as though she abruptly realised she asked a rude question.
"Don't apologize," I said. "Makes no difference to me what gender people think I am." It was true. I was used to people thinking I was a girl. Really, it was people seeing me as a boy that I was struggling to get used to. The blonde girl seemed uncertain about how to respond to this, so decided on introducing herself instead.
"I'm Daphne Greengrass," she said. The name was vaguely familiar to me. I turned to the black-haired girl expectantly. She seemed oddly surprised.
"Oh, I'm Millicent Bulstrode," she said. I remembered Millicent from her description in the Chamber of Secrets. Through Harry's eyes, she was described as very ugly several times, but to me she seemed like a perfectly normal looking young girl.
"Millicent is a very pretty name," I said, smiling at her. "It suits you." Milicent blushed and Daphne Greengrass eyed me suspiciously.
"Who are your parents?" she asked. "I don't know the name 'Ash'."
"You aren't alone, I'm afraid," I said. I felt myself speaking strangely formally as I tried to come up with a believable story. "I've lived in a foster home just off Diagon Alley for as long as I can remember." In this life, anyway. I didn't count the time I'd spent in hospital. Selectively forgetting chunks of time when convenient makes telling a convincing story much easier.
"What about you?" I asked. "Your name is familiar to me. Greengrass is one of the sacred twenty-eight isn't it?" It was a shot in the dark, but I felt it was a low risk question, based on the company she kept. It seemed my guesswork paid off, because she straightened up importantly.
"That's right," she said. "Bulstrode is too." She nodded toward Millicent.
"This is a little embarrassing," I said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "But I'm worried- you know, coming from foster care. I'm wondering, you coming from an all magic family and all, if you might…" I trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blanks with whatever was most appealing to her.
"Oh, of course I can help you fit in!" she said, clapping her hands together. Score. "Are you hoping to be in Slytherin?" I nodded.
"Best place to be," I said. In reality, I hadn't decided yet. I was hesitant to mess with the core story too much, so I didn't want to go to Gryffindor. I was also worried that being in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would make it so I would have to go far out of my way to change anything, but they had a pretty major benefit of being broadly viewed as more trustworthy than Slytherin, which would make it easier to get in with Harry's group (if I ever wanted to in the future). On the other hand, being in Slytherin would give me direct access to the antagonists, the driving force of the story, which might be better for changing things in the long run.
"I think so too," Millicent chimed in. "Daphne and I are both going to be Slytherins." It felt nice to be making friends, even though I knew they might want me dead if they found out I was probably technically a muggle-born. It's not as though I had magic parents before, after all. I'd forgotten how different it felt to be an eleven year old. Though I still had memories from being fifteen, the early pubescent brain I was living in felt strangely lighter to carry around. It was then that there was noise and movement from Millicent's side, near the window. It took all my strength to not squeal with excitement as the cat stretched. Long haired and black, this must be the cat whose hair Hermione accidentally used for her polyjuice potion in second year.
"What a beautiful kitty," I cooed as it leaped to my bench to inspect me. Then I did my best to turn my attention back to Millicent. "I look forward to being in the same house. If I get Slytherin, of course."
"Do you know who I heard is on the train?" Daphne Greengrass suddenly said in a hushed voice. Millicent said "who?" and I shook my head, but I had a strong feeling I knew who it was.
"Harry Potter," Daphne said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, yes," I said, feigning a realization. "I think I saw him on the platform. Black hair, big glasses. And the scar, of course."
"I don't get why people make such a big deal about him," said Millicent with a huff.
"I certainly wouldn't want to be famous for anything I'd done as a baby," I said glibly, hoping to avoid needing to defend an anti-Voldemort stance this early on in our friendship. If I would be going down that route, it would need to come later, once I'd built some trust. Luckily for me, Daphne and Millicent laughed and the conversation switched gears to talking about their very important wealthy parents. Neither the Greengrass family nor the Bulstrodes seemed to be as wealthy or important as the Malfoys, but they were certainly leagues more prestigious than I was.
At around noon, the trolley came around. Frank had given me some pocket change, so I bought a pumpkin pasty, a cauldron cake, and a cold glass of pumpkin juice. Millicent and Daphne, each having quite a bit more pocket change, helped themselves to a small pile of sweets. Millicent offered me a licorice wand, but I politely declined.
"What's your Quidditch team?" Millicent asked me.
"Oh, I'm not that into sports," I said. It was true. I never followed team sports in my old life and saw no reason to start doing so now. Millicent was completely taken aback.
"Not even Quidditch?" she gasped. "What do you do with your time?" I had a laugh a bit at that and I hoped it didn't come across as mean-spirited.
"I keep busy," I said vaguely. I hadn't been in the wizarding world long enough to develop hobbies. Before, I would always be listening to music, reading books, or watching horror movies. If I mentioned that I like music or novels here though, I might have been expected to know more about magic pop culture than I did. I would have to remedy this problem next summer if I could.
"Well, I couldn't imagine what I'd do without Quidditch," Millicent said excitedly.
"What position do you play?" I asked out of genuine curiosity.
"Beater," she said. I supposed I couldn't be surprised.
"She's really good too," Daphne said. "I've played with her. She's absolutely brutal to play against."
"Maybe you should try out for the house team," I said. Millicent looked pleased.
After a while, our door slid open. I looked over to see the girl I'd spotted earlier, a nervous looking boy standing behind her. Hermione had cool tawny skin and her long curly hair spilled over her shoulders spectacularly. Just as she was opening her mouth, I spoke.
"We haven't seen a toad," I said, without even thinking. "If that's what you were going to ask."
"Oh," said Hermione, visibly surprised. "Alright then." She awkwardly closed the door again and left. When she was gone, I quickly noticed that Millicent and Daphne were giving me strange looks.
"How did you know that's what she was here for?" Daphne said, suspicious again.
"I recognized the boy she was with," I said nonchalantly. "I had seen him telling someone he had lost a toad." Having read all these books is going to give people a vastly inflated idea of my perceptive abilities.
Looking out into the corridor through the window in the door, I watched Hermione begin to walk toward Harry and Ron's compartment. After she was done talking to them, it wouldn't be long before their little confrontation with Draco Malfoy, and that was not something I wanted to miss. I continued to contribute to the conversation here and there, but my new companions could tell I was distracted.
"You still in there?" said Millicent, waving her hand at me.
"Yeah, sorry," I said, after what must have been a particularly long pause. "I just have a feeling…" Sure enough, a moment later, a boy who must have been Draco Malfoy was strutting excitedly down the hall, tailed by two much larger boys. "Something interesting is about to happen."
I waited until I thought I wouldn't be noticed and slid open the compartment door, peering down in the direction Malfoy had gone. I watched him open a door and begin to speak to the occupants of the compartment, their conversation barely audible from where I stood. I wore a small, barely visible smile (smirk, if I'm being honest). My compartment mates watched me with confusion. My smile widened as I watched Goyle lean forward to pick something up off the seat. Maybe it was wrong, but I couldn't help laughing with a touch of schadenfreude when I heard the yell of surprise and pain as rat teeth sank into his finger.
"What's going on out there?" asked Daphne in alarm. Both she and Millicent were now peeking down the train corridor with me.
"Most likely?" I replied. "Someone fucking around and finding out." Daphne gave me a look like she'd never heard an eleven year old curse before. "Alright, we'd better step back," I said. I was just sliding the door shut again as Mafloy rushed past, the sadistic smile flashing back onto my face for the split second we made eye contact. If he thought anything of it, he didn't say so.
"Was that the Malfoy kid?" asked Millicent.
"It was," Daphne said, looking at me seriously. "You'd better hope he didn't hear you laughing at his friends." I scoffed.
"I'm not scared of that scrawny little-"
"Don't you dare," Daphne interrupted sharply. "Don't you know who his father is?"
"Of course I know," I said. "But I'm sure Lucius Malfoy has better things to do than run around punishing everyone who's rude to his son." I actually wasn't entirely sure. I was somewhat counting on the apathy that most people feel towards the social lives of eleven year olds.
"Still," Daphne urged. "C'mon, you seem alright. Why give them a reason to dislike you?"
"Yeah," Millicent agreed. "I wouldn't mess with them if I were you. The Malfoy's opinions are really influential, even if Mr. Malfoy wouldn't come after you directly." I wanted to say that the Malfoy's only have five or six years left of influence in them, but I didn't want to set myself against them so directly yet.
"Alright then, since it worries you," I said, softening my tone. "I promise I'll be nothing but polite to Draco Malfoy," I lied.
Author's Note: Thanks again for reading. :) Please do leave a review letting me know what you think. I'm even inclined to edit past chapters if I get a really good suggestion to add something. This is a living story and I want it to be the best it can be.