James Potter was many things.
A good athlete, a loyal friend, and Gryffindor's golden boy.
For Victoria Atkinson, he was everything she hated in others. He embodied the values that have been impressed on her since she was little. And that's exactl...
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There was no denying the fear about beginnings. No matter how well you prepared, how early or late you saw the beginning coming your way - fear, anxiety, and panic were the greatest companions.
Of course, new beginnings meant a new story. And even when there were people building their life from different beginnings, some bigger, some smaller, they still carried an effect onto us. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes horrible, yet always unexpected. Plan, check, prepare as much as needed, and as much as you want, but the unexpected stayed. If the word end didn't decorate our story ... it holds us together and tore us apart just to end and make new room for the next start.
But preparing, even knowing the slightest, felt good. Saving security as much as possible would ease it, even when just for a little bit.
Yet all the books she read, pictures she memorized, and scenarios she played through all her - that fucking red train was scary.
There is no need to be nervous, one of the house-elves had whispered to her this morning.
Those words alone made her Hundred times more anxious.
The train station was filled with dozens of other kids, dozens of which were in a similar situation as she was in. But they weren't in her situation - those were different realities, different worlds clashing together in the form of the at this very place.
There is no need to be nervous.
But these facts alone didn't stop her hands from shaking as she spotted the train in front of her.
The little girl was walking beside her family. Her eyes were solemnly focused on the little houselve in front of her, pushing her luggage cart as they walked towards the scarlet object. Her blond hair, straighter than usual, bounced with as she walked, giving no hint on how hard she tried not to stumble at the sight of everything.
Smiling politely at everyone, the girl tried to at least look like she wasn't anxious to a level of breathlessness. There were people staring at them from all around platform 9 3/4. Some were just starring; others would start evidently whisper about them. And those people, not even a handful of them loved to remind her that privacy wasn't really a thing. A flash of light came, and the young witch knew that there was a picture taken.
Foolish seeking hope, the girl looked up at the men next to her. Maybe he would be the one telling them to look away. After all, he was the one insisting on coming so early, as if this would avoid all of this. But Jacob Atkinson kept walking. He didn't even acknowledged his daughter's look, rather chose to offer the world around him his typical smile. The one that radiated comfort, charm, professionalism, and power.
