When I found out that the train station I was meant to go to was the same one Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters was written after, I was absolutely exhilarated. Though I was against going to a boarding school, at least taking a train seemed fun as my grandmother didn't want to drive me all the way there– too long of a drive, she said.
With my luggage ready, I waved my grandmother goodbye. She said I didn't need her, the signs were all direct and there were employees to help me find my way if anything. I didn't mind one bit. As soon as I got into the station, the first thing I did was rip out the ugly shoulder pillows from the inside of my blazer and pull my coat closed.
Slowly, I made my way to the tenth platform, excited to pass by the third column between nine and ten. I hadn't a camera phone I could use to take a picture but I was happy to just be there. As I made my way past the platforms a wild thought entered my mind: Run at the wall.
"Are you stupid?" I mumbled to myself under my breath. Though my comment hadn't been low enough and a passing commuter nearly broke her neck to look at me. I quickened my pace and looked down at my feet.
The most you'll get is a bruised shoulder.
"Yeah and completely embarrassed," I said again, shaking the thought out of my head.
As I passed the ninth platform, I slowly looked up to see the tenth platform three columns away. I was nearly "at the spot." There had to be no less than a thousand people at this station, all in their own worlds– some on phones, others reading, and even hurrying to catch departing trains.
No one will see you do it. It'll be fun.
Groaning once more, I passed the halfway mark. Though I knew I was going to look ridiculous, I couldn't help but want to run at it. My heart raced at the idea of passing through the wall. I'm officially insane.
In my time of reading these stories, I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts and the actual Platform nine and three quarters. I was nearly as excited as I was the time my dad took me to Universal Studios in Florida to the Harry Potter world and was able to go through the fake wall and train. The excitement burned my ears and the embarrassment coloured my face.
Shaking my head, I laughed airily and took a deep breath as I made it towards the column.
"God save me," I mumbled. Taking out a small notepad, I made it seem as though I was looking on a phone and hurrying to a train. If anyone noticed, it would look as though I was too preoccupied to notice the wall.
With the will of insanity, I braced myself for impact, only to bump into someone instead of something. We both fell to the ground with a loud oomph and groan.
Looking up, I gasped, "Oh Jesus H. Christ, I knocked myself out."
Looking around, I'd come to the end of a tunnel that's opened up towards another train track. There were people standing around, looking as if they were waiting for—
The train was beautiful. It was coming this way. The front of it read Hogwarts Express. I gasped at the sight of it and stared in awe. Another groan called my attention and I look down, a small boy sat on the floor with fallen books and a trunk around him.
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to knock you down. Are you okay?" I asked furiously, extending my hand to him.
"I'm alright, why were you running so fast? We have more than ten minutes until the train leaves," he asked grabbing my extended hand.
"I— I'm sorry. I didn't think I would get through the platform," I mumbled.
"It's not locked, why wouldn't you get through?" he asked another question.
"Uh, I- it's nothing. Uh, do you need help?" I asked politely.
"Not from the likes of you," he grumbled. "Crazy woman." With that, he picked up his belongings and left me at the entrance of the platform.
Most of the people wore big black robes, that looked like trench coats and had coloured scarves around their neck or holding them in their arms.
I watched as people continued to walk off the train. Soon enough, families started to look at me. They noticed I was starring; I was being rude. Looking both ways, I watched as students got onto the train and parents say goodbye to their children. This can't be real, I laughed to myself softly.
"Miss, are you lost?" someone asked. I spun around to see a woman with a conductor's cap on.
"Um, n- yes? Where does this train go again? I seem to have forgotten," I laughed awkwardly.
At my voice, the woman scrunches her brows but answers with a smile, "Hogwarts, of course. The train is leaving in seven minutes exactly, so I would recommend you go in and find yourself a seat before they're all taken!"
"T-thank you, ma'am," I smiled nervously. Turning to my right, I slowly walked towards the train.
What am I doing? Hogwarts? I have gone insane. Hit my head and ended up in LaLaLand. Excitement soon turned into fear as I walked towards the train. Where will this take me? Is it safe? Where am I, truly? Can I come back if I wanted to? What happens if I do end up at Hogwarts? Wait- how did I get here– I'm a mug—
Just as I was about to make my decision to go back to wall and somehow make my way to my actual train, a voice ripped through the air and severed my train of thought. Not so much the voice, but the names.
"Fred, George, stop fooling around! You're going to miss the train. Ron! Hurry along. Goodness why are the only good ones the girls— you too Harry, but mostly the girls?!" a woman cried.
I snapped my head towards the direction of the voices and almost cried. A few feet away stood the Weasleys with Harry and Hermione. Their fire ginger hair was hard to miss, especially with Harry's large cage— for Hedwig. He looks exactly like how he did in my dream. They all looked how I had imagined them. I watched as Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron got on the train while Fred and George pestered their mother with questions about what's to come for this school year. Something about changing rules and seeing Charlie soon– and then it hit me:
The Triwizard Tournaments.
Without another thought, I jumped onto the train as the whistle blew, signalling that the train was ready to leave. I could hear Mrs Weasley yelling at them to get on the train and stop asking questions. I squealed lightly and turned around only to bump into someone. Again, I fell with an oomph.
"Watch where you're going," they spat. I looked up and locked eyes with none other than one of the most annoying characters at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy.
"I– I didn't mean to. No need to be rude about it," I snapped with a slightly apologetic tone.
"Who do—" but he cut himself short, his scowl changing from anger to confusion, "wait, are you American?"
"I am but that's no reason to have such an attitude," I answered, raising my brow and extending my hand, "can you at least help me up please?"
Draco blinked, too stunned to talk, and slowly grabbed my hand, helping me up.
"Thank you," I breathed, giving him a slight smile. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find a place to sit for the ride." Surprisingly, Draco moved out of the way, as did his minions behind him, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. "Thank you!"
I nearly squealed with excitement, this dream turning out better than I could have ever thought. Maybe hitting my head wasn't the worst thing to have happened. With pride and joy, I walked down the corridor in disbelief that Draco Malfoy listened to me! And wasn't completely rude. I really must have stunned him!
Looking in every room, I tried to find three familiar faces to possibly sit with. Finally, halfway down the hall, I got to their room. Peering inside the room, I looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Pushing the door open, Hermione stopped talking and they all face me.
I could feel the blood rush to my face. Wringing my hands nervously, I asked, "can I sit here?"
"Our cabin in full," said Hermione quickly. Harry and Ron just stared at me as if I've grown another head.
"Oh," I whispered sadly, "but I thought each cabin could fit up to six people. I just- I don't have anywhere to sit."
Hermione seemed uncharacteristically rude. I didn't like my dream version of her.
"But our trunks—" Hermione started, but at my confession, Harry and Ron upturn their faces and look at each other.
"Do I know you?" Harry blurted.
"Uh— no? I don't believe so," I muttered.
"You look so familiar," said Harry in awe. "Hermione she looks like the girl from the forest."
"The forest?" I squeaked. My mind whirled to the memories from my first day in England. My not-so-dream dream, the muddy socks, the forest, the odd stomach pain.
"That's impossible—" Hermione started, but Ron cut her off.
"There's room now! I've just put the trunks over here. I can move Hedwig's cage on the ground," Ron nodded. "Y-You can sit next to me!"
"Oi! Be careful!" Harry yelled at Ron who moved Hedwig's cage too quickly.
"Er– I suppose sp," Hermione huffed.
As I moved more into the compartment, a voice called out to me.
"Oi, American!" I snapped my head in the direction of the voice to see Draco coming down this way. Oh no. "I'd be careful with the lot you decide to entertain yourself with. Especially these Mudbloods and—"
"Excuse me," I blurted, cutting Draco off, "I don't appreciate that term. It's rude and uncalled for."
I raised my brow at him, crossing my arms over my chest. I never understood why he used that word being its derogatory meaning. Draco had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, who both seemed to be glued to his hips at all times. Evidently, they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door.
"Why do you care so much about—?"
"I don't— I don't care, that is. And regardless if I did, I don't like that term. Even I know how awful and slanderous that word is and I'm not even from here," I scoffed. "I know that you wouldn't like it if someone were to call you a nasty name like that."
The two goons behind him gave me the side glance as if they were trying to figure out my angle. My angle, if any, would be to fix Draco's horrible attitude towards everyone.
"I rather have you join my cabin than join theirs," he lied. I knew he was lying because he looked everywhere except me.
Before I could answer, Harry responded to him, "Don't recall asking you to join us, Malfoy."
"And I don't recall suggesting that. The offer was for her, not—" Draco cut himself off with a snicker and pointed at Hedwig's cage, "Weasley. . . what is that?"
A sleeve of Ron's dress robe was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the mouldy lace cuff very obvious. Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Draco was too quick for him; he pushed past me and grabbed the sleeve, pulling at it.
"Look at this!" said Draco in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean— they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety. . ."
"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same colour as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Draco's grip. Draco howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.
"And here I thought people of your stature would have been taught manners," I shook my head. "Why do you feel the need to be so mean?"
Draco's laughter quieted down and looked at me in disbelief. I don't think anyone had ever so snidely questioned him before I had– he had nothing to say to me. Whether it was due to the fact he thought I wasn't worth the effort to argue or whether he wanted to taunt the trio more, he turned his attention back to Ron, "So. . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know. . . you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won. . ."
I rolled my eyes at the idiotic and painfully annoying slander. Hermione and Harry stared at Draco with hatred as I internally groaned.
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.
"Are you going to enter?" Draco repeated lazily. He turned his attention to the furious raven-haired boy in front of me and addressed him, "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily.
"He's talking about the godforsaken Triwizard Tournament," I mumbled. This caught the attention of everyone in the cabin, including Draco.
"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "The American knows, yet you've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My god, my father told me about it ages ago. . . heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry. . . Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley. . . yes. . . they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him. . ."
Laughing once more, Draco beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them walked out of the cabin. Before they left, Draco turned to me once more a whispered, "my offer still stands. Be careful who you associate yourself with."
I shook my head and slowly closed the compartment door, ignoring the rude blond.
"That's Draco Malfoy for you. Always a git, never a second he doesn't torment anyone," Harry spat.
"He's such an arse. I hate him. Making it seem as if he knows everything, but he doesn't!" Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry.' Dad could've got a promotion at any time! He just- he just likes it where he is. . ."
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron—"
"Him? Get to me? As if!" Ron spat.
"He's just your average school bully. No need to pay him any mind," I rolled my eyes. "It's sad, what it is."
"He's a spoiled little git who I would love to have a go at," Ron huffed.
"You need to calm down. Allowing him to get you this riled up is the reason why he targets seems you guys," I shrugged.
"Why do you think Malfoy 'targets us'?" Hermione asks suspiciously.
I took a short breath and looked at her, "I can tell, obviously. Especially in the way you guys address each other. I'm guessing your name isn't Potter." I turned my attention to Harry who was staring at me. Turning back to Ron, I pointed slightly at him, "D- He called you Weasley, whereas these two call you Ron. I'm going to assume your name is Ron Weasley. Unless Weasley is an insult or a nickname."
Obviously, I knew his name was Ron Weasley and I knew almost everyone on this train, but I had to pretend to be clueless so they wouldn't get suspicious, or this dream would get really weird, really fast.
When no one said anything, I knew they knew I was right.
"So, I guess I'll start first. My name is Charlotte Harring, but all of my friends call me Lottie!" I smiled, deciding a new nickname was in time for a new school year. Well, actually, I had decided on Lottie as a nickname for my actual new school but trying it out in my dream seems just as well.
Harry continued the introductions, "my name is Harry Potter, and this is Ron, as you know, and Hermione Granger."
"Pleasure to meet you guys," I smiled. With concealed excitement, I turned my attention to Harry, "now, you said your name is Harry Potter. Why does that sound familiar? Are you famous or something?"
Ron and Hermione both cleared their throats and Harry looked awkwardly around the room, "uh or something." Harry looked reluctant to say it, but shyly added, "I'm the Boy Who Lived."
"The Boy Who Lived? Huh?" I falsely questioned, smiling at his nervousness. I laughed softly at him, "you're so silly. What kind of title is that? Everyone's alive, Harry."
Ron laughed awkwardly and Hermione narrowed her eyes at me, "he defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby. He's actually The Boy Who Lived, not some random bloke who's alive!"
"Oh!" my eyes widened at her little outburst. "I'm sorry. I didn't think he was being serious. I thought it was a- a joke," I stuttered.
Obviously, I did know who he was but what I didn't know was Hermione's pointed anger. Especially directed towards me. Although she's a little hotheaded in the books, I never expected her to be so. . . spiteful as this was my dream.
"It's all right, you're American, I can assume. Your accent," Harry motioned around his mouth. "Why are you coming to Hogwarts, if you're American?"
"Uh- I'm a transfer student, from Ilvermorny," I lied, nodding.
"How come you're transferring?" Ron asked while sticking a cake in his mouth.
"My father, he got a promotion and I was sent to live with my grandmother and had to move to England. Found this school and. . . here I am," I sighed. It wasn't a complete lie.
"What year are you?" Hermione asked.
"Of course you ask about academics! Can't ask about her father's job or anything else; just school!" Ron complained.
"I'd like to know what year she's in! Is that such a crime?" huffed Hermione.
I giggled at their little outburst and smiled at them, "I was going into my first year of high school, so I think it's Year Four here– if I'm not mistaken?"
"That's our year, too," Harry piped up. I turned to him and smiled widely. "I hope we're in the same house."
"What house were you sorted into at Ilvermorny?" Ron asked.
"Wampus. Horrible name, but redeeming qualities," I chuckled.
"Hermione, what's the equivalence in our houses versus the American Houses?" Harry asked Hermione.
"She's basically in Gryffindor," she mumbled. I frowned slightly at Hermione's attitude. She seemed so closed off and upset towards me.
I opened my mouth to ask if she's okay, but as I did, the whistle blew, notifying us that we will be getting towards our destination shortly. We had talked so much, I hadn't even noticed the time fly! Harry and Ron mumbled something about needed to get changed into their robes while Hermione picked up one of her textbooks and read. Sighing to myself, I prayed that whatever happens at Hogwarts will be okay.
A muggle at Hogwarts.
What could possibly go wrong?