Terrible Things [Happen to Those Who Meddle With Time]

Chapter 2

        Neville leads me to a wall. The wall between Platforms 9 and 10.

"This is a wall." I point out.

He smiles at me. "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Let me guess." I say, spreading my hands out in front of me. "It's not just a wall. It's something else."

"This way." He says, standing in front of the wall.

I stand next to him, looking at it. "So, what now?"

"You have to walk through the wall." He answers.

"What?" I ask.

"You heard me. Through the wall. Watch." And then he simply takes a step forward. Just when you think he's going to faceplant into it, his disappears through it.

"Neville?" I marvel, studying the apparently plain wall.

        I sigh. I guess he's waiting for me to follow him. I close my eyes, and carefully take a step forward.

        I open my eyes to see I'm on a new Platform; the sign says that it's Platform 9 3/4. All around me people are saying their goodbyes, and kids are pushing trolleys laden with trunks and cages toward a scarlet steam engine. I watch all of this unfold in front of me, my mouth hanging open.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I look up and see Neville coming towards me.

"Uh..."

"Come on, let's go find a compartment on the train." He suggests, weaving through the crowd.

        I follow him warily, trying to take in everything around me. Some kids have owls as pets, of all things! Occasionally, I see someone with a cat, but not often. And everyone's dressed so strangely. Their clothes are outdated or mismatched, or they're wearing robes. I'm pretty sure that they didn't wear robes in... What, what year am I even in?

        When we reach the train, Neville pulls me inside. He pulls me down a hallway, and on either sides of us are compartments full of kids. "Neville, what year is it?" I ask as we walk toward the back of the train. 

"1996." He answers. "What year was it in your time?"

"2012." I reply as he pulls me into an empty compartment.

He raises an eyebrow. "2012? How different is it from now?"

"I... Well, we wear clothes like this." I say, gesturing at my skinny jeans, graphic t-shirt, and Converse.

He's about to say something when the compartment door opens. "Hello Neville." A blond girl with a dreamy voice and big, blue eyes says. She looks over at me, and her eyes widen further. "Who's this?"

"Hi." I say, stretching out my hand. "I'm Aislyn Clark."

She shakes my hand slowly and carefully. "Luna Lovegood." She studies me for a second. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What year are you in? And what House?"

"Um..." I gulp, looking at Neville for help.

"She's new." Neville explains. "Hasn't been Sorted yet."

"Oh." Luna remarks. "What school did you go to before? Beauxbatons?"

I decide that if I say yes, she'll ask me about what it's like there, and I know nothing about Beauxbatons. So, I go with a hopefully safer option. "I was homeschooled." 

"That's different." Luna says, then she reaches into her bag. "Would you like a Quibbler?" She holds out a magazine with all sorts of weird drawings on the cover.

"Sure." I say, taking it from her with a smile.

"Well, it was nice meeting you." She says. "I've got to go... Neville, I think you should find a different compartment. Nargles, you know."

"I think we're fine, Luna." He replies.

"Okay." She murmurs, closing the compartment door and drifting down the hall.

"Nargles?" I wonder.

"One of Luna's creatures." He explains. "She believes in a lot of things that aren't supposed to exist."

"Do you believe in them?" I ask, flipping through the magazine she gave me.

"Maybe a little. Just because of the way she talks about them."

"What are we going to do when we arrive at... Where exactly are we going?"

"Hogwarts," He answers, "School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And I already said, I'm taking you to Dumbledore. He's the Headmaster, and the most powerful wizard alive. He'll know what to do."

I close the magazine, setting it on the seat next to me. "Aren't you a little worried that you're telling me too much?"

"No." He answers.

"Why not?"

"Because if they feel you can't be trusted, they'll probably wipe your memory."

"Okay." I reply in a small voice.

"I don't think they will, though." Neville says with a smile. He's probably just trying to cheer me up.

"Okay." I repeat, watching the train slowly start to move out the window.