"you will stay young and I will grow old, forever."
↠ In which Marigold Knight has to face her 7th year at Hogwarts while trying to cope with the death of her best friend, keep up with her classes, manage joining a resistance a...
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White smoke chased between the people on the platform and Marigold's trunk was heavy as she pulled it down the walkway. Black cloaks swished past her and ties of green, red, blue and yellow flickered in the crowd.
The train's whistle carried over their heads, the five minute warning for the last of the students to get onto the train before it leaves.
For the first time in weeks, a flame of excitement was growing in Marigold's belly and a small smile broke onto her face.
Her mother pulled her gently by the elbow into an alcove in the station wall, out of the way of the flow of people. She leaned down slightly, "Pumpkin, are you going to be alright?"
Marigold's eyes connected with hers and she nodded, "Yes, mum."
Fiona's hand stroked the side of Marigold's head, sighing. "Are you sure you have everything? If you forgot anything, I'll post it. You just need to write and say you've forgotten it. Please tell me you've packed Spider's food--"
"They have cat food in the common room, mum--"
"You know Spider likes the one we buy him, they only sell it at Magical Menagerie--"
Marigold grabbed her gently by the hand, "Mum. Relax."
Fiona looked into her daughter's eyes, eyes that had remained elusive for weeks. She nodded.
Marigold smiled at her mother, "Everything is going to be okay. Spider will eat the food at school. If he doesn't I'll write, but he's a pickier eater than any cat should be."
She looked down at the cat basket where Spider was avidly watching the people pass by.
"Alright." Her mother pulled her into her chest, squeezing her tightly.
The train whistled again. One minute.
Marigold pulled off her mother and gave her a meek smile, "Bye, mum."
Fiona kissed her forehead and they rushed to the nearest open door of the train: Marigold jumped on and managed to grab her broomstick out of her mother's hands a split second before the door sealed shut.
The train began to move and from behind the door Marigold heard her mother faintly shout for her to write. She would, she always did.
The weight of the broomstick in her hand felt familiar, she glanced down at it. The handle was still pristine, although slightly dusty. It had been weeks since she'd polished it. In fact it had been weeks since she'd even looked at it. Now with it in her grasp, it hurt like she always knew it would.
Cedric always used to carry her broom onto the train, both his and hers under his one arm.
"Goldie!" A voice pulled her out of her thoughts, she way still standing in the doorway.
