Don't you dare forget the moon- Harry Potter

Numb

I tapped my foot nervously, as the minutes passed by. However, my growing frustration was staunched when I overheard the chatter of a group of people.

 "-- packed with Muggles, of course --"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like ours in front of him -- and they had an owl.

My veins filled with newly found excitement, I pushed cart after them, and I didn't need to hear the metallic noise of Harry's cart to know that he was following me. They stopped and so did we, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a scrawny girl, also red-headed, who was holding her mother's hand. I stepped up to them, my heeled boots- a few sizes to small- slapped the cold floor. The woman turned, to greet us with a warm smile.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

 I smiled at him, and his eyes wandered down the two of us, taking in our old, plain clothing, and our skinny statures. His eyes lingered on my face, before he noticed me watching, and looked away, his face flushed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I turned my attention back to the woman. 

"Yes, we're new to Hogwarts, though we don't know how to get onto the platform," I said, with a bored expression, "Which is kind of dumb on Dumbledore's part, cause how else are the muggle borns gonna figure it out?"

A pair of twins chuckled at the bewildered expression on their mother's face. 

"I'm Fred and-"

"George Weasley-"

"And we've got a feeling you'll turn out to be an interesting guy," they chorused. 

"Maybe I'll turn out to be much more," I mumbled, amusingly. The twins smirked. 

"You wanted to know how to get onto the platform, didn't you. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten," said one of the twins. 

"Or are you too chicken to try?" Challenged the other twin. I raised my eyebrows. I didn't have anything to lose. 

"We'll see," I said, turning around to face Harry, "C'mon, lets go," Harry stared at me with disbelief.

"T-there's no way that ca- can work," he spluttered. This time, I did roll my eyes.

"Watch me," I said, even though I didn't have to. Everyone around an arm's reach of me was watching me, their expressions amused. Except for the scarwny Weasley girl. Her expression was lustful, like many other girls her age at this train station. I hid my frustration as I plowed ahead with my trolley. I was jostled by the crowd as I cut through them, and I know that quite a few of them did so on purpose. As I reached the wall, I resisted the urge to shut my eyes. Surprisingly, I wasn't a bit afraid of the wall. And even more shockingly, I wasn't at all stunned when the cart went right through the wall and onto platform nine and three quarters. Nobody would think I was this numb. They always mistake it for bravery. But being brave isn't not feeling fear. It's being able to feel those emotions and yet, override it. Being brave is--Harry stepped through the wall, his faced screwed up in disbelief--Harry is brave. I am numb. 

War out!