BORN TO DIE | R. Arcturus Black

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Chapter Sixteen: The Holidays

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She was fighting a losing battle against her own drowsiness. Her eyes felt like they were sinking into her skull. 

The rocking motion of the Hogwarts Express did nothing to help; in fact, it only seemed to lull her further into her sleep-induced stupor. 

Everything had gone exactly according to plan, even better than she could've ever imagined. Dumbledore had fallen for the forged letter and asked her to meet with him to discuss if she would be willing to leave Hogwarts during the Easter holidays. And as quick a snap of a finger, all the little pieces had fallen perfectly into place. With everyone else preoccupied with their own plans and priorities, Janet had a window of opportunity. No one would pay that much mind to why she was leaving Hogwarts, or where she was going.

But with sadness, a nagging thought crawled its way into her half-conscious mind, and she couldn't seem to shake it off. She was finally beginning to feel the weight of her situation. She had no one to turn to, no one to trust.

If something does happen to her on this trip, no one would know about it, no one would reach her and with that, all hope of saving these people would die with her. Everything she had now was in a small bag, nothing more than a few British pounds, her wand, and a scrap of paper with an address on it. It was all she had to go on, the only clue that would lead her to the next step in her plan. It was the only thing she could leave with, without having every painting at Hogwarts reporting to Dumbledore. Her other bag was safely hidden in the room of hidden things buried under loads of items each bearing their own stories just like her bag.

She had planned everything to perfection, if everything goes right, she may just get the location of the first horcrux – aside from the locket – and that may give her an idea of where the others may be. She would get off the train and onto the platform, pick-pocket a wand – she didn't say her plan was morally-righteous – , buy a ticket and hop on the next bus to Surrey and from there to Little Whinging. The trip from King Cross to the little town should take no more than three hours in total, according to her estimations.

As she waited for her arrival, Janet leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. The rocking motion of the train, the muffled sounds of conversations and laughter surrounding her, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks, all of it blended together into a soothing melody that pulled her into a state of half-conscious relaxation.

The next four hours passed in a blur, and before she knew it, the train was slowing to a stop at Kings Cross Station. She was quick on her feet, ready to go, and as the train door slid open, she stepped out onto the platform. Janet smiled softly, seeing the excitement and joy of the younger students. She felt a twinge of sadness in her chest, wondering if she'd ever feel that same joy.

She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the occasional dirty look and shove from parents and students alike. Finding a corner away from the bustling crowds, she sat down, pulling her bag close to her. She rummaged through it, taking out the scrap of paper with the address on it. She had memorized the street names and directions to get there, but still, it was nice to have a physical reminder in her hand.

Now all she needed was a wand..

After some time, Janet finally spotted the perfect victim: a man in his mid-thirties carrying a heavy-looking bag on his back. He didn't look like someone with a lot of money but still well enough to afford a new wand, and he certainly didn't look like someone who worked in the ministry. Plus, he didn't seem to be in a hurry or paying attention to his surroundings.