Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
RAIN PELTED the windows of the train as you walked down what felt like the thousandth train compartment. You weren't sure just how many you had walked through and you had long stopped counting when every compartment seemed to be full. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark landscape outside, followed shortly by rumbling thunder. Students chattered within their respective compartments, echoing out into the aisle.
You sighed, dragging your trunk behind you wearily. Your arms were already starting to ache despite how you had switched the handle from hand to hand. All you wanted was to find a compartment— any compartment at this point— and sleep off the rest of the train ride. Even after three years of attending Hogwarts, soon to be four, you absolutely despised the rides to and from your dear school.
It was the same each year: lose your best friend on the platform when her friends dragged her off somewhere else. Then you'd end up scrounging for an empty compartment or sitting at a table alone in the dining car. Originally, you had been sitting in the dining car but apparently falling asleep and drooling all over the table wasn't appreciated there.
The only year you hadn't gone through your bothersome routine was your first year. You could still remember that year vividly, specifically your terrible excuse of a first day which was one of many to come. It all started with you running head-on into a barrier— it, of course, had not been the entrance to Platform 9¾ and as a result, you were left with a bloody nose reminiscent of a crime scene.
Your parents had been too busy chatting up their coworker and his son who was (conveniently) a year older. He, out of everyone there, had pointed out the blood gushing from your nose. When your parents rushed to your side to stuff tissues up your nose, you grimaced. The boy had smiled, and although you couldn't deny that he was charming, you were far more upset about how stupid you looked.
Thankfully, by the time you had to get onto the train, your nosebleed had stopped and you were able to give a tearful goodbye to your parents. The boy, whose name you had long forgotten, was supposed to have stuck with you but the second his friends had gotten hold of him, you were left to fend for yourself. Dreadfully, though, the torture didn't seem to stop there.
At some point, you had run straight into a set of twins: Fred and George Weasley (just thinking about them now gave you the chills). With identical grins, they handed you some candy, saying it would give you the ability to read minds. You, for some reason, hadn't stopped to question the validity of the statement and quickly ate them. The second your tongue had swollen up, you instantly regretted it.
"Say, how do you feel? Nauseous? Ill? On a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to vomit right now?"
"Your input would help us a lot so if you could answer our questions, we would be in your debt."
You had run off immediately before you could be roped into becoming a guinea pig. The trolley lady you had run into while almost screaming and crying had handed over some water but to no avail. It had freaked you out so badly that you had run back toward those demon twins in hopes they could fix something. Instead, you ran into the boy of your dreams: Oliver Wood.
