Chapter Seven.

1K 70 1
                                    


Midafternoon, it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window. (Y/n) stared out the window in a gloomy daze, quietly sipping the tea she had heated up with her wand. They heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favourite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscley; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding bowl haircut and a very tick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-ish arms.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"Took you all summer to come up with that one, didn't it?" (Y/n) snapped. Draco ignored her.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Draco. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks' basket to the floor. Remus gave a snort.

"Who's that?" said Draco, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted him.

"New teacher," answered Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Draco's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't a fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaged his knuckles.
"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and—"
Ron made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Remus, "be careful."
But Remus was still fast asleep.
The ran thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared. (Y/n) had eventually fallen asleep, but that only lasted a half-hour before she was staring into the rain again.

"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Remus at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast."

"We can't be there yet," Hermione said, checking her watch. "So why're we stopping?"

"I better go and change..." (Y/n) murmured.
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.
(Y/n) took her carry-on bag and stood up to leave the compartment. She got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. Then, she hurried to the closest bathroom and got changed as quick as she could. 
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
By the time (Y/n) got back, she could barely see and crashed into Harry as a result.

"Sorry," they both mumbled. Harry stepped aside to let (Y/n) in before continuing to peer out.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Harry and (Y/n).

People Watching.Where stories live. Discover now