The Train To New Beginnings

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Chapter 6 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

As Tom and I step onto the Hogwarts Express, a wave of awe washes over me. The platform is bustling with students, some dressed in the familiar clothes of the Muggle world, while others sport robes that signify their place in this new, mysterious world of magic. Dumbledore had gone over the dress code and rules of Hogwarts, making it clear that we were expected to change into our robes before arrival. Hence handing two pair of robes to us, which was so thoughtful of him.

Still, everything feels so foreign, so surreal.

Dumbledore leads us through the narrow corridor of the train, glancing back occasionally to ensure we're keeping up. His presence is comforting, a beacon of stability amidst the whirlwind of new experiences. He speaks as we walk, his voice calm but commanding attention.

"Hogwarts is a place of great learning," he says, "but it's also a place where you'll form bonds that will last a lifetime. The rules are there to ensure everyone's safety and well-being, but don't forget to find your own path within those guidelines."

Tom and I nod in unison, listening intently to every word.

Dumbledore continues, "After your journey, you'll be welcomed to the castle with a grand feast, a tradition that marks the beginning of every school year. It's a time to meet your peers and, perhaps, get a taste of what's to come."

 A feast. My stomach tightens at the thought of sitting in a hall filled with hundreds of other students—not just any students, but ones with magic flowing in their veins. The very idea makes me nervous. What if they don't accept me as one of their own? What if my life at Hogwarts isn't any better than the one at the orphanage?

These type of doubts and dreadful thoughts always seem to haunt me, circling like vultlures whenever I face something new. I have a habit of overthinking things, and it's not something I'm proud of. But I can't help it; the unknown is terrifying.

They say that starting something new is always frightening at first, and I suppose that's true.

But there's a thrill to it as well—a small, flickering excitement that I can't ignore. It's the kind of thrill that makes my heart race, a mix of fear and anticipation that tightens my chest.

Before I can dwell too much on it, Mr. Dumbledore—no, Professor Dumbledore, as he mentioned he's one of the professors at Hogwarts—stops and turns to face us.

"This is where I must leave you," he says with a gentle smile. "I have a few matters to attend to here in the Muggle world, but rest assured, you'll be in good hands. I'll see you both at Hogwarts."

He gives us a reassuring nod before heading back down the corridor, leaving Tom and me standing alone amidst the bustling train.With a final nod, he left us, disappearing into the crowd of students.

Tom and I continued our search for a seat, the tension from our earlier exchange still hanging between us. Eventually, we found an empty compartment—or rather, one that was mostly empty. With no other options, we slipped inside and sat across from each other.

I tried to ignore the way Tom's gaze seemed to land on me every few minutes, but it was impossible. Each time I looked up, he was either staring out the window or pretending to be engrossed in a book.

Was I imagining things, or was he actually watching me?

The first option seems more likely—I must be imagining things.

That's normal for me, someone who's always indulged in her own fantasies and delusions. More like I had to—it was the only way to survive the orphanage. If I hadn't, I think I'd have seen all the things around me for what they truly were—rotten, awful, and terrifying.

Being naive is better than being broken.

And if I had seen things as they were, I might've given up hope on freedom. But now? That hope has been granted. And I have a feeling that many of the other things I've been hoping and wishing for will be granted, too.

Being hopeful is better than being hopeless.

I sit by the window, my eyes drawn to the scenery outside.

The train slowly pulls out of the station, and the landscape changes from the busy streets of London to rolling green fields dotted with grazing sheep. The sky is a pale blue, with clouds drifting lazily above us. It's beautiful, almost too perfect, like a scene from a painting.

It was something I'd only seen in stories, something I'd only imagined . And now it was passing by right outside my window. The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks was almost soothing, a steady beat that matched the growing excitement in my chest.

The silence between us was broken by the sound of a trolley being pushed down the corridor.

The door to our compartment slid open, and a blonde woman with a friendly smile peeked in.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked, her voice tinged with a lilting accent

My eyes widened at the sight of the array of snacks—none of which I recognized. Chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. It was all so new, so strange, and I couldn't resist the urge to try everything

"I'll take one of each," I said, my excitement bubbling over as I handed over the galleons Dumbledore had given us.

Tom watched me with a raised eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"You're really going to waste all your money on that?" he asked, his tone mature and slightly condescending. "You don't even know if you'll like any of it."

I shot him a look, the irritation from earlier still simmering beneath the surface.

"It's not wasting if I'm trying something new,"I retorted, grabbing the snacks as the trolley witch handed them to me."Besides, isn't that what we're supposed to do? Experience things? I'd rather enjoy myself than sit here and brood like you."

He narrowed his eyes at me, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a retort.

"Suit yourself," he muttered, taking a single chocolate frog and leaning back in his seat. "Just don't come complaining to me when you've spent all your money on rubbish."

I ignored him, turning my attention back to the window, though I could still feel his gaze on me.

He scoffed, turning back to his book, but I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on the pumpkin pasty I'd just unwrapped.

The tension between us crackled like electricity, but I wasn't about to back down now. The argument earlier might have left a sour taste, but it had also lit a fire in me—a determination not to let Tom's words control me anymore.

The train ride continued in a mixture of silence and short, sharp exchanges. Every time he said something dismissive or condescending, I fired back, no longer content to just let him have the last word. There was a thrill in it, in standing my ground against him, even if it meant we clashed more than we got along.

At one point, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape, closing my eyes, I try to savour It's warmth as I press my forehead to window.

Opening my eyes, I glance at his direction and  caught him looking at me again.

This time, I held his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. For a brief moment, it felt like there was something unspoken between us, something simmering just beneath the surface

But then he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned back to his book, and the moment was gone.

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips as I popped a Bertie Bott's bean into my mouth, bracing myself for whatever strange flavor it might be.

The rest of the ride passed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the sound of rustling pages and the occasional crunch as I sampled another snack.

The sky outside had darkened, and a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air. I couldn't help but wonder what awaited us at the end of this journey—the great feast Dumbledore had hinted at, and beyond that, a world I still barely understood.

But just as the train began to slow, signaling our arrival, Tom finally looked up from his book, his expression unreadable.

"We're almost there," he said, his voice low. "I hope you're ready."

Before I could respond, the train came to a jarring stop, and the door to our compartment slid open once more. This time, however, it wasn't the trolley witch standing there.

It was someone I didn't expect.