The sounds of obnoxious laughter paired with children boasting about their summer holiday chorused through the aisles of the train while I sat alone in my compartment. The express was busy, to say the least.
I brought my hands to my ears and felt around, unsure whether they were bleeding by now. A bad headache, those too-loud voices, and a number of lingering stares made my irritability shoot through the roof.
Flipping through the pages of my new schoolbooks, I heaved a heavy sigh, my mind racing too fast to focus on the words. I found myself wondering if there was a way to slow down this train that was heading straight to my impending doom.
Of course, I already knew the answer. Nobody can escape the inevitable, and I am no exception. But that doesn't erase the absolute dread that fills me when the thought of attending a new school plagues my mind. I swear, it's nothing personal to Hogwarts. I haven't got anything against it— even if its name is ridiculous. My old school was simply a better fit for a girl like me.
Though, I suppose I've got no one to blame but myself. Perhaps I should accept the fact that my expulsion from the only School of Magick in France was entirely my fault. My grandmother often told me how she awaits the day that my irresponsibility will catch up to me. But I digress.
After my big Beauxbatons oopsie, she insisted on switching to Hogwarts for its "great learning environment", eventually telling me that I had no choice in the matter anyway. So alas, here I am. Sitting amongst what looked to be hundreds of my peers, sighing dramatically and tracing frowny faces in the window.
I tightly held the set of three schoolbooks on my lap, stacked in a neat column—similar to the piled weight of nervousness, unfamiliarity, and dread thrusted right atop my shoulders. Admittedly, it was a bit embarrassing to be basically the only person sitting alone—as fifth year, no less. Feeling eyes linger on me each time someone flew passed my compartment door wasn't exactly comforting. I fidgeted with the jade and silver crest of my self-sorting robes.
Footsteps sounded from across the aisle and my head turned instinctively; three students were making themselves comfortable in the compartment opposite of mine.
A trio of two boys accompanied by a sneering girl, each draped in emerald, and each staring at me as if I had some visible infectious disease. Silently, I watched them through my peripheral. It seemed transfer students weren't all that common— or welcome— in the Slytherin house, at least.
"I guess they're letting any old recluse into this school nowadays," the girl spoke in a low voice thick with distaste.
Surprised, I almost scoffed. Was it a crime to sit alone around here? One of the boys rolled his eyes, and I guessed the sour look on her face was nothing new. "I'm sure she didn't know it was our compartment."
She said nothing, twisting a finger around her blonde ringlets and focusing her sharp glare onto something else. The scowl on her face was ever-present, I suppose. "She does look a bit old to be in year one, though, doesn't she?" He continued, curiosity lacing his tone.
My face twisted into a grimace. Our compartment? Last I checked, I didn't see any name tags. Nonchalantly, I flipped one of my schoolbooks open and hoped that I appeared entirely uninterested.
"A new witch. How incredibly boring." A deeper, slightly more judgmental voice than the first. My head whipped towards the boy it belonged to, his glacial eyes already drilling holes into the side of my head. I ignored the crack in my neck as I nearly gave myself whiplash turning back around, away from his piercing stare.
Deciding ignorance truly is bliss, I tuned out every voice within earshot and succumbed to a nap, lulled by the slight rumbles and hums of the train tracks.
