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There was chaos everywhere, people stepping over each other and shouting and Céline Beaumont loved every single moment of it. Not because she was inherently a lover of chaos, far from it, actually. No, Céline Beaumont loved the chaos because that meant it was less likely for people to notice her.
Céline didn't like to be noticed, and it was fairly obvious when you'd look at her. She kept her hair down, trying to make it cover her face as much as possible as she either stayed in the middle of the crowd or found a lonely corner on her own.
"Céline, allons-y!" a voice called out from a few feet ahead. A man, not much older than forty, stood before her with his eyebrows raised as he was dragging two trunks behind him.
"J'arrive tout de suit, papa," Céline responded, telling him that she was coming right away. She cringed a bit as she realized a few people close by had noticed her because of it. It wasn't every year that an unfamiliar girl spoke French on the platform, anyway.
She took quicker steps to keep up with her father, Sébastien, as he hurried towards the train that was supposed to take them to Hogwarts.
She was a bit taken off guard by the pure size of the train, but she supposed it made sense that it was large when it was supposed to hold all the students off the school. She noted the banner in the front, calling it the Hogwarts Express.
"C'est très different du carrosse de Beauxbâtons," Céline softly commented on how different it was from carriages that used to take her to her old school.
"Oui, c'est vrai," her father agreed, throwing her a supportive smile. "Bonne chance, ma petite. Tu devrais aller chercer un compartiment."
She nodded as he told her to find a compartment, wanting to wish him the same luck he had wished upon her. They were both going to need it after all. "Bonne chance, papa."
He quickly kissed her cheek and handed her her trunk before getting on the train. She was planning on following in a few minutes, but didn't want to walk on and be defined as being the new Professor's daughter, though she supposed she could be defined as worse.
She was about to take a step, to lift the trunk up on the train when the hairs on her neck stood up and she was certain goosebumps were covering her arms at the moment. Someone was watching her.
She furrowed her brows as she turned to look over her shoulder, and she found herself looking into a pair of light-brown eyes. And that moment, no matter how brief it truly was, she could feel her chest tighten as she struggled to breathe.
She didn't let herself look into those eyes for another second. She didn't take a moment to find out what person they belonged to, if it was a boy or a girl, what color hair they had, how old they were. She didn't care. If she looked at the person, it was more likely that they'd want to talk to her and she definitely didn't want that.
