Chapter 2 : Chapter 1
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I pack the last of my textbooks into my trunk, they barely fit on top of the pile of clothes I think necessary to bring, but they fit, eventually, with a bit of maneuvering. I shut the trunk, proud with my handiwork, and place a book in my backpack to read during the train’s journey.
“Emelia, Hurry! We’re going to be late! You’re going to miss the train!” yells my mother from down the stairs.
We’ve got plenty of time till the train leaves at 11 O’clock. It’s not as though we’re THAT late.
So it’s 10:30, well shit, okay, maybe we’re just a little late.
“Emelia!” My mum yells again, trudging her way up the stairs and into my room. “Come on Emelia, we have to go NOW! Have you packed?” she questions.
“Yes!” I nonchalantly answer. Have I packed? We only need to be at the platform in less than half an hour. If I haven’t packed now I’d be screwed. Okay, hush, she doesn’t need to know I JUST finished packing.
“Well let’s go! Your brother’s waiting downstairs and we don’t have much time.” Mum says, walking out the door.
I grab my suit case and follow closely behind. Thank god for apparition, or we really would be screwed.
“Alright so you have everything dear?” mum asks.
“Yes, I have my school books, I have my robes, paper, quills, it’s all there.” I answer.
My mum moves to hug me, “Alright, make sure you write. And Jack,” she turns towards my brother. At thirteen, three years younger than me, he’s already gaining up to my own height. Whilst I took after our mum being small and petite, my brother took very much after our father, who you can tell will grow to be just as taller and built as he.
“Try not to get too many detentions, Jack. Please.” our mum pleads.
“Alright!” answers my little brother Jack irritantly, wanting to leave and be out of sight.
“I don’t want to have to receive another letter home explaining why once again you’re in detention! Merlin knows how many letters we’ve gotten the past two years! I mean really, did you have to jinx that Hufflepuff last year? The poor boy could barely see after you used that conjunctivitis curse! Really Jack you have to-“
Mum continues ranting off to Jack. I take this chance to take in the surroundings of the platform. There’s a slight breeze this morning on the platform, mum’s voice is drowned out by the rustling of the wind, whispering in my ear. My forest green dress swishes in the wind. I’m mindful to keep it from blowing up and giving onlookers a good flash. The fabric looks and feels delicate, as delicate as the flowers imprinted on the dress. I look around Platform 9 3/4, similarly parents around are farewelling their children. Parents alike, question their children, “Have you got you things?” “Do you need money for the trolley?” “PLEASE tell me you have your toad?!”
It’s easy to differentiate the first years among those who have done this numerous times. First year parents are panicky at the thought of letting their child leave, contemplating on not letting them go just to keep them safe and to themselves. Likewise, the first years look just as terrified, yet, almost anxious to leave. Whilst they may have worried expression plastered on their face, their eyes tell another story. Eyes filled with excitement and questions about what lies ahead at Hogwarts, and what more they could possibly learn about magic. By contrast many of the other students are jaded of the same routine every year. Parents still just as panicky, but more reluctant to let them go. But the students are eager to leave, eager to use magic again after two months. Their bored expressions hold anticipation beneath at the many things they can do with magic. Yet the seventh years, able to use magic legally, many come alone with their ability to apparate, whilst many parents savour their final chance to see them off. Many have their wands out, conjuring up little trinkets, levitating their luggage, almost teasing those younger to say “Hey! I can do magic outside of school and you can’t!”
Nearby I hear, “Albus, look after Lily, alright?” questions a woman with flaming red hair. With hair like that (and the fact she’d be the only mother to have a son named Albus) it’s likely to be the Potters, more specifically, Ginny Potter.
“Yes, mum.” answers a boy with untidy black haired, much taller than me, with his bright green eyes checking the surroundings, looking for something to get him away from questioning of his mother. Albus Potter. He looks as though he’s heard this question more than enough times, that the response seems reoccurring.
“And try to at least focus on schoolwork rather than running around blowing things up! I don’t want another letter home about the toilet you blew up, or about another boy’s potion you just so happened to ‘tip over’! ” remarks Ginny. Albus remains silent, but his smirk gives away how pleased he is with his achievements.
Standing next to them is a tall young man, no older than nineteen. With equally untidy black hair as Albus, but with bright brown eyes resembling Ginny’s, there stood James Sirius Potter.
“Just try and beat my record number of detentions!” James remarks.
This easily anger Ginny, displaying her temper that is just as fiery as her hair. “James! Don’t encourage him! It was bad enough with you when you were at school. Setting a rat off in the Great Hall at dinner, jinxing the house elves to dance non-stop, stealing polyjuice potion just to get in the girl’s bathroom- I mean, really James, the girl’s bathroom! What would possibly make you think-“ Ginny continues to ramble on, listing off all of James’ handiwork. His mouth turns up into a slight smirk, relinquishing in his masterful tactics.
Its unlikely Albus would put an end to his pranks. It seems James Sirius Potter wasn’t the only Potter child to inherit his namesake’s knack for getting in trouble. When James finished school two years ago, Headmaster Morris thought there’d be one less thing on his mind and much less trouble. Wrong. Albus Potter was just as likely to cause trouble, yet somehow, managed to still receive outstandings in pretty much all his subjects. The professors just couldn’t stop raving about “Albus’ outstanding essay on animagi!” and I’m not even in his year! You’d think being the year below you’d be less likely to be compared to the work of Albus. No. Now it’s not all the professors, but one in particular, Professor Harkis, the transfiguration teacher, is absolutely IN LOVE with the Potters and Weasleys. It’s almost impossible not to get an outstanding from him if your surname ends in Potter or Weasley. And whilst by no means does Albus not deserve his marks, there’s no doubt he’s a smart guy, I mean, to pull off some of the pranks he’s done you’d have to be a genius.
“Emelia, you should get on the train it’s about to leave any minute.” my mother says, jutting me out of my thoughts.
She kisses my brother and I goodbye, and we move to find a compartment. My brother runs off, in search for his group of friends. Whilst I too, could search for the girls in my dorm, all I want most is to find an empty compartment to sleep in. And while I could do sleep with other’s in the compartment, with them, I’m unlike to catch a blink of sleep. I open the door at last to an empty compartment, not a person insight. Sleep. Sleep will do me good.
I shut my eyes and darkness encloses my sight. It’s not long though before the compartment door is opened. With the screech of the opening door, my eyes fly open. It was too good to be true. I knew I was unlikely to get much rest on the train ride, but I had only hoped. There standing at the doorway, as though he knew I was looking at him on the platform, was Albus Potter. His green eyes scan the room until they rest on me. His stare lingers on me. Those deep green eyes, eyes that could make you fall into a trance, fixate on mine. His eyes furrow in determination, continuing to stare.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable I ask, “Can I help you?” in attempt to get him to stop.
He looks at my face. A slight grin mixed in with a smirk spreads on his lips. “Yeah, can I sit? The other compartments are full, but by all means, go back to sleep, I’ll try not to be too disturbing.” he grins.
I nod in acceptance. I don’t blame him, these days you’re less likely to find a compartment where you can actually sit on the seats. Many times I’ve had to endure the train ride, accompanied by my dorm mates, and listen to them rave about fashion and beauty. Whilst I confess to owning a good amount of clothes and beauty products, the extent to which they relinquish in the glory of fashion is outrageous and slightly frightens me.
Albus takes a seat opposite me. He scans the room, again, but this instant it’s to pass the time. With Albus in the room, I don’t feel comfortable sleeping. With his history, who knows what I’ll wake up to on my face. I’d rather not fancy a beard or moustache, thank you.
Silence. Not quite an awkward silence, but by no means a comfortable one.
“Emelia, right? Jack’s sister?” he asks, in attempt to break the silence.
Of course they’d know each other. Where else would Jack probably get his inspiration from? Most likely they’ve met in detention on numerous occasions. Jack probably watches him more than any fan girl. He’s probably more creepy than a fangirl, watching Albus execute his pranks, he probably takes notes for future reference.
“Yeah.” I answer. “Let me guess, Albus, right?” I remark sarcastically.
Albus catches on. A small grin plays on the corner of his mouth. “How ever did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” I remark, a small smile seeming on my own lips.
Another silence, but this time it’s content. I pull out a book, assuming there’s little room for sleeping on this train ride now.
Noticing a shift in Albus’ figure, I see him get up to move. “I’ll see you round Milly. Next time it won’t have to be a ‘lucky guess’.“ he says, quoting my words.
He wonders out of the compartment, with a smirk on his lips, seeming quite pleased with our encounter. I watch him leave, remembering how he called me ‘Milly’ upon exit. The nickname is foreign to my ears, yet sounds pleasant, like a sweet humming noise. I look towards the now vacant spot he’d recently occupied. There laid, spilled out of Albus’ pockets, three round green pellets, U-No-Poos. Now It’s my turn to smirk. Whilst my brother may be known as the troublesome one of us, I couldn’t help squirm but with anticipation of its use, MY use, it just so happens that some of us can accomplish the art of subtlety. I pocket the Weasley’s Wizard Wheeze, knowing full well its usefulness.
Three guess where Albus Potter ran off to. To pull a prank? Well, Albus Potter, aren’t you just FULL of surprises.
A/N: Thanks for reading! So a little Christmas present for you guys. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, stay safe and have a happy holiday. Let me know what you think, and I’ll see you all in the New Year.
'Till then, Ellie :)
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