A Riddle Full of Trouble.

Chapter 1: Eyes are a window to your soul.

1st September 1943 - Platform 9 3/4, Kings Cross, London

Aerwyn's P.O.V.

The platform was crowded, filled to the brim with young wizards and witches, their overwhelmed parents and assorted baggage. Most struggled to make their way through the teeming mass of people but I had no issues, I just daintily stepped between the small and the big, trunks and bags, cats and owls.

Here was a magic restricted zone, as dictated by several official ministry notices. Despite this the air was filed with sparks flying from wands, faulty broomsticks bucking against their owner's grip and a myriad of fluttering letters and creatures. Undoubtedly shocking the fresh muggle parents who huddled in corners. It was a risk for them to come in a time of brimming prejudice and hatred but they had come to know that Hogwarts is the safest place on the planet.

Noise rose like steam from the platform, ricocheting off the cavernous walls and assaulting the senses. For any solitary person the cacophony could be paralyzing, but after five years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry racket was not something unusual. This was nothing compared to the volume of their voices in the echoing auditorium of the Great Hall.

I smiled, delighted when I glimpsed the crimson red train, which had been previously blocked by the gingery heads of the large Prewett family. I made my careful way towards the large vehicle, comforted by its large and steady presence amongst the bustle of the people around me.

I always boarded the train as soon as I could. Every September made a solitary trip to Kings Cross, there were no tears running down my face, at home, however, Mother was crying those tears. Most likely, if I were with her, I would be crying too, but not now. Now I stayed perfectly composed, face devoid of the sadness that I was internally feeling.

The image from when she said goodbye shot through my mind. The way her green hair was slightly mussed and how her tears had fallen into the lake with a gentle, melancholy sound.

I found my way to a pleasantly empty compartment near the end of the train, and levitated my trunk onto the rack above. I had learnt a long time ago that I was not very talented at the awkward maneuvering of any large object without magic. Taking a seat by the window, I took the opportunity to watch everyone outside hustle about their business. I always enjoyed this activity, it helped pass the time, and made me feel included in the lives of the many.

I felt a pang of sadness as I realised how many of the older students and their relatives were absent. The muggle war that ravaged Europe was taking it's toll on the wizarding community, many muggle-borns had not come to the station at all, I fervently hoped that they were being escorted to Hogwarts by other means. 

A boy in my potions class only last year had received a letter saying his parents were killed in an air-raid. He had not returned after the spring  break.

The whistle blew, and, as I gazed out of the window, I sensed some of the boarding students stare at me as they walked past. No one tried to enter my compartment.

I was starting my sixth year at Hogwarts, and had grown quite considerably over the summer. Which was increasingly annoying, because the cave ceiling is rather low, I gained three injuries in the past two weeks, thankfully my father managed to fix them up nicely.

Unlike me, my father didn't have many problems with the roof, since he was a bit on the short side. Not that he needed to be tall, his half Veela appearance was enough to stun anyone who walked by and saw him. I was glad that my Veela heritage was reduced slightly through the generations, I received enough odd stares as it is.