Hogwarts Express
The steam engine of the Hogwarts Express roared to life, its deep whistle reverberating across Platform 9¾ as parents waved, tears glistening in their eyes, and young witches and wizards clamored excitedly. The cacophony of chattering voices and the rustle of robes made the air electric with anticipation. Sage Violet Potter stood off to the side, small and unnoticed, her emerald eyes wide as she watched the chaos unfold.
Her slight frame was nearly swallowed by the oversized, second-hand robes that hung loosely on her body. She clutched a worn book close to her chest, using it as both a shield and a comfort. Her scar, a jagged lightning strike that cut across her left forehead and spread down her cheek like a snowflake, was a vivid reminder of her past. She shifted nervously, her eyes darting to the other students with a mix of apprehension and wonder. This was her first time surrounded by so many peers, and the noise was overwhelming.
Sage’s thoughts spun in anxious loops. She had never been in a space so vibrant, so alive, and yet she felt utterly out of place. The Dursleys’ cold, contemptuous whispers echoed in her mind, assuring her she did not belong. Every cheer and laugh seemed foreign, almost painful in its contrast to the silence of Privet Drive.
“Oi! Out of the way!” A red-haired boy barreled past, eyes glinting as he led a gaggle of siblings into a nearby compartment. Ron Weasley glanced back, eyes calculating as he scanned the platform. Spotting Sage, he narrowed his eyes before smoothing his expression into a friendly facade. His mother, Molly Weasley, stood nearby, whispering hurried instructions to Ginny, who nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Sage pulled further back, retreating into herself as her heart thudded against her ribcage. She hadn’t been spoken to or looked at directly, and she was content with that. Being unnoticed was safe.
“All aboard!” called the conductor, and the wave of students funneled into the train. Sage slipped into the smallest, most shadowed corner of an empty compartment, curling up and opening her book, not to read, but to create a wall between her and the world. Her fingers traced the well-loved spine as her eyes, wide with fear, darted around the small space.
Suddenly, the compartment door slid open with a loud rattle. Sage’s heart leapt into her throat, and she squeezed her book tighter.
“Mind if I sit here?” a confident voice asked, but it wasn’t truly a question. Daniel Granger swept into the compartment, his shaggy brown hair tousled and eyes sparkling with mischief. He was dressed impeccably, exuding an air of easy confidence. A few heads turned in passing, some girls giggling and whispering behind their hands.
Daniel’s eyes fell on Sage, who was barely visible beneath her curtain of black hair. At first glance, she seemed impossibly small, like a child playing dress-up. His brow furrowed slightly. Who had snuck a six-year-old onto the train?
“Hey,” he said, dropping into the seat opposite her with practiced nonchalance. “Did someone’s kid sister get lost on the way to school?” He smirked, intending the comment to be lighthearted.
Sage flinched at the sudden attention, her fingers freezing mid-page turn. She dared a glance upward, her emerald eyes catching the light, sharp and intense despite her timid demeanor. The briefest flicker of confusion passed across Daniel’s face. Those eyes. There was something hauntingly familiar about them, something that stirred a deep, unidentifiable feeling.
“I’m not…” Sage’s voice was soft, barely audible over the chugging of the train. She hesitated, the words dying on her tongue as the weight of years without being allowed to speak clawed at her.
Daniel leaned forward, undeterred by her silence. “Name’s Daniel Granger,” he said, offering a hand with an easy grin. “But everyone just calls me Tony.”
Sage blinked, her gaze shifting from his outstretched hand to his warm, expectant eyes. The simple gesture left her momentarily paralyzed, unaccustomed to kindness.
“S-Sage,” she managed, her voice a cracked whisper. She dared not reach out, instead tightening her hold on the book.
“Sage?” Tony’s grin widened, curiosity piqued. “Like the herb?”
To his surprise, Sage’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile flickering and vanishing like a candle in the wind. Emboldened by her subtle response, Tony continued, launching into a tale about an experiment gone hilariously wrong during one of his summer projects. His voice filled the compartment, spilling over with energy that drew attention from those passing by.
From across the corridor, Neville Longbottom watched with wide eyes. He had known Sage for years—at least, known of her—his gran had whispered stories, and deep down, he knew she was like a sister he’d never met. Yet shyness and uncertainty kept him rooted to his seat, longing to protect her but too timid to act.
Ron Weasley glanced back through the compartment window, his gaze darkening for a moment before slipping back into a mask of casual friendliness. The plans whispered to him by his mother and sister replayed in his mind as he took his seat.
Meanwhile, Sage’s guarded exterior began to crack, if only slightly, under Tony’s relentless charm. He continued chatting, weaving stories and jokes that sometimes coaxed a two- or three-word response from her. He noticed how her eyes, when buried in the book, were sharp and observant, revealing a hidden intelligence that disappeared the moment she looked at him.
Daniel, intrigued by her sudden focus when reading, decided to test her. He fumbled with his goggles, creating a theatrical mess as he pretended to cast wrong repairing spells. Amidst the drama, he caught the faintest of whispers. “Y-you are do…doo…ing wrong.” If he hadn’t been listening carefully, he would have missed it.
Turning with a cocky, flirtatious smile, he asked, “What am I doing wrong, then?” Sage’s eyes darted up, hesitant. She murmured, “The correct spell is Occulus Reparo.”
Feigning more mistakes, Daniel heard her whisper again. He thrust the goggles toward her, putting on a pout. With shaking hands and a voice that gained strength with each syllable, Sage cast the spell in one go. The goggles mended seamlessly.
“I did it? First time? I… I…” She looked overwhelmed, staring at her wand in awe.
Daniel smirked, pleased. “See? Told you, you’re brilliant.”
As the train rolled on, Daniel’s chatter helped Sage relax, and she even managed small, hesitant smiles that stole his heart. When they stood side by side to change into their robes, he noticed just how tiny she was. She barely reached his shoulder, standing only four feet tall to his four feet eight inches.
When the train finally halted at Hogsmeade Station, Sage’s nervousness returned, rolling off her in waves. Daniel took her hand, feeling her flinch before she gradually relaxed as he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. She peeked at him through her bangs, uncertain but comforted.
Seeing the unspoken question in her eyes, he squeezed her hand and bowed playfully, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The unexpected gesture made her blush and giggle, a sound so rare it felt like music. ‘Oh, that was heavenly,’ Daniel thought.
A booming voice broke the moment. “Firs’ years! Over here!” Hagrid called, his massive frame towering above the crowd.
Daniel helped Sage into the boat, playfully making a show of it as they joined Neville and Ron. Sage sat nervously, eyes flitting to Ron and then back to the castle looming ahead. Daniel took her hand again, calming her jitters as they glided over the dark water.
The sight of Hogwarts, with its turrets glowing against the night sky, drew gasps from the students. Sage’s heart fluttered with awe and trepidation as the boats bumped against the shore and they clambered into the castle.
Professor McGonagall stood tall and formidable, introducing herself and explaining the house system before leading them into the Great Hall for the sorting. All the while, Daniel and Sage held hands, the warmth between them a lifeline as they faced the unknown.