The landscape unfurling beyond her window changed slowly, from urban greyness and honking horns to sprawling fields of waving gold, sparse forests, low hills with sheep dotted onto them like drops of white paint onto a green canvas, through echoing tunnels and across high bridges.
As time passed and her view changed, a few students - Prefects - started trickling back into the compartment. Most were in pairs or groups, finding seats while caught up in their talks but Petunia wasn't fooled. Whenever she turned her head they looked away too quickly and conversations stuttered strangely.
They were talking about her. Probably wondering what she was doing here, though someone must have informed them of her presence as no one challenged her right to sit here in their fancy compartment.
Most of them got up from time to time, some disappearing for minutes, others for hours, but they always returned in the end, reporting to a boy with a high forehead and the most pompous badge pinned to his chest, notably different from those the other students were wearing.
There was one exception to the pattern; a tall boy with neatly combed, light brown hair and too-short sleeves only ghosted into the compartment for a few moments each time, quickly talked to the pompous boy and then disappeared again, not in the least tempted by the plush seats, space or quiet the compartment could offer him.
That was until hours into the ride. Petunia had started eating her Welsh cakes, glad that she brought them when she saw that all the snacks being sold were funny sweets - though her heart did constrict strangely when she spotted the familiar, colourful packaging of Bertie Bott's Beans on the trolley. The sky outside her window had changed, the clouds tinted dark blue and rosette, the horizon flooded with orange as dusk settled.
The boy entered the compartment and instead of looking for the Head Boy (Petunia had managed to read the fine script on the fancy badge) he sat down on the seats right across from her, his face clouded and his gaze glued to the darkened landscape rattling past without really watching it.
Now that he sat so close Petunia was startled to see the scars on his face. They weren't deep or fresh but noticeable enough that Petunia wondered how she had missed them before, silver lines running over the bridge of his nose, through his eyebrow and across his cheek.
They looked brutal.
Maybe the boy felt her stare because suddenly brown eyes turned away from the window, meeting hers.
Petunia was just a tad too slow in looking away and embarrassment washed through her but then he smiled. It looked a bit tired, the edges worn away, but appeared honest enough.
Though Petunia was still surprised when he actually addressed her.
"Excuse my manners. You must be the new teaching assistant Dumbledore told us about - my name is Remus."
"Apprentice groundskeeper," Petunia corrected reflexively before clearing her throat. "I'm Petunia."
For reasons she didn't want to examine but was all too aware of she didn't mention her last name. She had no doubt that her relation to the most popular girl at school wouldn't stay a secret for long but she was in no hurry to let herself be compared right from the start.
"Groundskeeper? So you'll be working with Hagrid?"
Petunia nodded, a flash of nerves mixed with excitement stabbing through her.
Something must have shown on her face because the boy's smile settled into something more genuine and gentle.
"No need to worry, Hagrid might look intimidating but he's harmless."
"Intimidating?"
"You'll see. As long as you always treat his critters right, he'll be your best friend - and you obviously come well prepared."
He nodded at the gold-leaf decorated book in Petunia's lap, her own eyes following his and her finger reflexively stroking down the spine in a self-soothing gesture.
"You've read it?"
"My father always says that every household should have an edition, and if only to identify the things crawling through the attic."
Petunia smiled. "It does have quite a lot of chapters about the crawlers."
"Oh? Sounds like you don't approve."
"That's not it." Petunia forced herself to look away from his open face, focusing her attention on the blurred, darkened landscape rushing past. She didn't know why it felt so easy to talk to this scarred stranger but found herself continuing anyway. "I just wish there was more about those creatures that resemble us. Centaurs, vampires, satyrs, werewolves -"
"Werewolves?"
Something in his voice had changed. When Petunia looked back at him she was startled to see how closed off his expression had become, his brown eyes almost amber with glowing intensity, his lanky arms crossed in front of his chest but not in a protective way - more like he wanted to restrict himself.
"Why do you want to know about werewolves?"
"I think there is a lot to learn about them."
"You're wrong. They're foul, evil beasts who'd like nothing more than to hunt down every wizard that crossed their path and infect him with their bloodlust. There's nothing else to learn."
Petunia frowned but chose not to contradict him. There was a treacherous undercurrent lapping at her feet and she feared getting swept away with the first misstep.
He took a deep breath and lowered his arms, his face softening.
Petunia didn't trust it.
"Just some advice, it's probably better if you don't talk about those ... things in the future. There's a reason there's no chapter about them in the book."
"What reason?"
He got up, tugging at his short sleeves while looking towards the door leading out of the compartment. Petunia thought that he resembled a caged animal searching for escape.
"No-one wants to hear about them."
Petunia blinked.
"I have to get going, we should arrive soon. Do you have a robe? If so, you should put it on before the train stops."
"I don't."
He nodded. "You can leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. I hope you have a good start at Hogwarts, Petunia."
And then he walked away, the compartment door closing behind him with a rattle without another glance back. None of the other Prefects seemed to be in a hurry, most were only just packing away their snacks or nudging their friends awake.
Petunia closed her hands around her book, letting the conversation replay in her head while the noise around her slowly heightened, pattering feet, clattering luggage, excited voices.
They were about to arrive.
Petunia stood up when the train slowed enough that she didn't fear tripping, and tugged her trunk from the storage rack, opening it to carefully put her book away. The thought of leaving it behind made her stomach dance, but she didn't suspect she had been lied to - none of the other students in her compartment made any motions to take their bags with them.
The train came to a stop with a small jolt and students started streaming through the corridors, some so small they barely reached her hips, others her age but rarely taller than her, and all were dressed in black robes. Petunia looked down at her sensible jacket, a cobalt blazer she had picked because she hoped its richness would make her eyes look bluer and make herself appear more grown up.
Now she realised just how much it made her stand out.
Banishing the realisation into a cramped corner of her mind, Petunia forced her way into the masses, ignoring curious stares and whispers around her. She had pointy elbows and piercing glares aplenty, what did she have to be afraid of?
Nothing, she tried to convince herself, she belonged here just as much as all the others, robes or not, she had been invited, she had even gotten a fancy letter delivered by an owl and signed by the Headmaster personally.
The current of traipsing feet and bumping shoulders carried her towards the exit, a cool breeze brushing across her face and filling her lungs with the smell of dewy grass and the lingering scratchiness of smoke. The station they had arrived at was small and seemingly in the middle of nowhere, red lamp posts throwing circles of orange light onto faded cobblestones, a small plaque reading 'Hogsmeade Station' barely legible while softly rolling hills were traced by the vanishing sun in the background.
Petunia's eyes darted over the crowd, not sure if she was looking for her sister's flaming hair or the mysterious Remus who had stormed off. Before she had a chance to spot either of them, a booming voice made her flinch, arresting the students around her and drawing Petunia's eyes to a hulking figure at the other end of the station, cloaked in shadows except for a glowing lantern being woven by a baseball-mitten sized hand.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"
A big, hairy face floated above the heads of the tiny students, bushy eyebrows hiding dark eyes and a snarled beard only parting enough to reveal flashes of gleaming teeth whenever the thundering voice sounded.
"C'mon, to me - any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years to me!"
And then the creature, for surely it could be no mere man, appeared to look straight at her.
"Ah, right - Ms Evans, over here!"
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