|Chapitre Un|

458 17 5

King's Cross station was buzzing with life on the first of September.

Through the heaving crowds of people commuting to their workplaces, mothers bidding goodbye to their children as they were sent off to the countryside and few lost Polish tourists, there were young soldiers parading proudly around the busy London station, their uniforms pressed and shoes shinned.

Over the boisterous noises emitting from the steam trains, they talked excitedly of the war, and the many adventures that followed. They were proud to have the chance to serve their king and country.

Due to the appearance of many young and handsome soldiers on the platform, Ophelia found it very difficult to manoeuvre through the crowds of young women who stood still, giggling and chatting excitedly.

"Excuse me," the sixteen-year-old spoke through gritted teeth, repeating the same words over and over as she pushed past the crowds indifferently.

The golden clock loomed above her head, shinning brightly in the morning sun. It was half past ten; she had thirty minutes until her train left the station.

"Bordel de merde," she cursed, very unladylike.

She dug her hand into her coat pocket and produced a thin piece of cardboard. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

She'd been around the station three times now, and she could confirm that there was not a platform which was described on the ticket. Currently, she stood at Platform Ten, having left behind the gaggle of soldiers.

Letting a groan escape her lips as she pressed a hand against her throbbing forehead, leaning against the cold, brick wall.

Today had not started off well and Ophelia doubted it would get any better as the day progressed. The last thing she needed was to miss the only train that would take her to this old Scottish school, Hogwarts, as it was so ghastly named.

A few feet away from Ophelia, a young girl dressed smartly in a red coat stopped in her tracks, pausing to stare in awe at the polecat snoozing on top of the trolley Ophelia was pushing around.

A tall boy, who was a few years older that the small girl, continued walking down the busy platform until, in a sudden moment of panic, he turned around to speak to his sister, only to find her missing.

The girl had already approached Ophelia with a innocent smile upon her face.

"Hello," she greeted in her received prononciation, every word balanced, cut to length and positioned in exactly the right place.

Despite the girl's soft tones, Ophelia visibly flinched.

The girl automatically took a step back, her smile frozen on her face. "I-I am sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

The young witch took in the fair-haired child's appearance. She couldn't have been a day older than ten, although there was a wise glint in her eyes that exceeded her age.

"I just ... I just wanted to see your cat."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "My cat?" She glanced at where the young girl was pointing. "Oh, you mean my -"

She paused, not able to remember the name of the animal in English.

The young girl titled her head in curiosity. "It's not a cat? It sure looks like one," she stated. "What's her name?

"You think it's a girl?"

The girl nodded. "I can tell. I know it's strange, but I have this sort of connection with animals. I believe they can talk!" Her eyes sparkled with wonder.

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