The Journey From Platform Nine And Three-Quarters
Our last month with the Dursleys wasn’t fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of us that he wouldn’t stay in the same room we were in. And Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn’t shut us in our cupboard, force us to do anything, or shout at either of us. In fact, they didn’t speak to us at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry or me in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.
Harry and I kept to our room with each other and our new owls for company. We had decided to call them Hedwig, Harry’s owl, and Jaelle, my owl. Both were names we had found in one of our textbooks, A History of Magic.
Our school books were very interesting. We would lay on the bed reading late into the night, together, Hedwig and Jae swooping in and out of the open window as they pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn’t come in to vacuum anymore because they kept bringing back dead mice.
Every night, before we went to sleep, Harry and I ticked off another day on the piece of paper we had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.
On the last day of August, I thought we’d better speak to our aunt and uncle about getting to King’s Cross station the next day. Harry seemed to agree, so we went down to the living room where our aunt and uncle were watching a quiz show on television.
Harry cleared his throat to let them know we were there. Dudley screamed and ran from the room. I decided to let Harry do the talking.
“Er—Uncle Vernon?” Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening. “Er—we need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to-to go to Hogwarts.” Uncle Vernon grunted again. “Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?”
Grunt. Harry and I shared a look, shrugged. I guess that meant yes.
“Thank you,” we told him together.
We were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.
“Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?” Harry and I didn’t say anything. “Where is this school, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Harry answered. I frowned, because I didn’t know, either. I pulled the tickets Hagrid had given us out from under my shirt.
“We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o’clock,” I read.
Our aunt and uncle stared.
“Platform what?”
“Nine and three-quarters.”
“Don’t talk rubbish,” Uncle Vernon chastised. “There is no platform nine and three-quarters.”
“It’s on our ticket.”
“Barking,” Uncle Vernon said. “Howling mad, the lot of them. You’ll see. You just wait. All right, we’ll take you to King’s Cross. We’re going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn’t bother.”
“Why are you going to London?” Harry asked, probably trying to keep things friendly.
“Taking Dudley to the hospital,” Uncle Vernon growled. “Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings.”
Harry and I woke at five o’clock the next morning, too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. We got up and pulled on our regular clothes—we didn’t want to walk into the station in our robes. We’d change on the train.
Harry and I both checked our Hogwarts lists over and over again to make sure we had everything we needed. Harry made sure that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage and paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up.
I, however, took the beautiful white owl from her cage and instructed her, “Jae, go to Hogwarts. Stay safe, and I’ll see you later today.” I didn’t want her cooped in the car with the toxic Dursleys.
Two hours later, my and Harry’s huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys’ car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to the two of us, and we had set off.
We reached King’s Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped our trunks onto two carts and wheeled them into the station for us. I thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.
“Well, there you are, kids. Platform nine—platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet, do they?”
He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.
“Have a good term,” Uncle Vernon said with an even nastier smile.
He left without another word. I turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. My mouth went rather dry. What on earth were we going to do? We were starting to attract a lot of funny looks because of Hedwig. We’d have to ask someone.
I saw Harry stop a passing guard, carefully not mentioning platform nine and three-quarters as he asked about Hogwarts. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn’t even tell him what part of the country it was in, the man got annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. I joined him when he seemed to be getting desperate, asking for the train that left at eleven o’clock, but the guard said there wasn’t one. In the end, the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters.
I could see that Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, we had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and neither of us had any idea how to do it.
We were stranded in the middle of a station with trunks that we could hardly lift, two bags full of wizard money, and one large snowy owl.
Hagrid must have forgotten to tell us something we had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley.
At that moment, a group of people passed just behind us and I caught a few words of what they were saying.
“–packed with Muggles, of course–”
I swung round, yanking my brother around with me. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like ours in front of him—and they had an owl.
Heart hammering, I pushed my cart after them, Harry following close behind me. They stopped and so did we, just near enough to hear what they were saying but not so close that we seemed intruding.
“Now, what’s the platform number?” the boys’ mother asked.
“Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her mother’s hand. “Mom, can’t I go...”
“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”
What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten.
Harry and I watched, careful not to blink in case we missed it—but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.
“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.
“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” one boy said, gesturing at what looked to be his twin. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”
“Sorry, George, dear.”
“Only joking, I am Fred,” the boy said, and off he went.
His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone—but how had he done it?
Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier. He was almost there—and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.
There was nothing else for it.
“Excuse me,” I said to the plump woman.
“Hello, dears,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”
She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.
“Yes,” Harry said. “The thing is—the thing is, we don’t know how to-to–”
“How to get onto the platform?” she asked kindly. The two of us nodded. “Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”
“Er—okay,” Harry said.
He looked at me, and I motioned for him to go first.
He nodded, then pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. He walked more quickly. Leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run. Then, he vanished.
“Thank you, Miss...?” I told the woman, bowing slightly with gratitude, the question in my eyes.
“Mrs Weasley. And you’re very welcome, dear!” she told me, smiling.
“Oh, please! Call me Jessie!” I told her brightly.
I watched the shock and recognition take over all three of the red-head’s faces before turning and following my brother.
With my eyes shut tightly, I started running. I braced for the impact of the solid wall, but... It didn’t come... I kept on running...
I opened my eyes and saw a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts’ Express, eleven o’clock. I looked behind me and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. I had done it.
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.
In front of me, Harry waited. I smiled at him, and we approached the train.
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry and I pushed our carts off down the platform in search of an empty seat.
At some point, we passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”
“Oh, Neville,” I heard the old woman sigh.
A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.
“Give us a look, Lee, go on.”
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms. The people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.
We pressed on through the crowd until we found an empty compartment near the end of the train. We put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave our trunks toward the train door. Harry tried to lift his own up the steps, but could hardly raise one end. We dropped them twice: once painfully on his foot, making me snigger quietly as he glared at me. The second time, on my foot, and I glared heavily at him, positive that it was his good-natured revenge.
“Want a hand?” someone asked.
I turned to see that it was one of the red-haired twins we’d followed through the barrier.
“Yes, please,” Harry panted.
“Oi, Fred! C’mere and help!”
With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk and mine was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.
“Thanks,” I said.
Beside me, my brother nodded and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
“What’s that?” one of the twins asked suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.
“Blimey,” the other twin said. “Are you–?”
“He is,” the first twin said. “Aren’t you?” he added.
“And that must mean-”
“That she is-”
“What?” Harry and I asked.
“The Potter Twins,” chorused the twins.
“Oh, them,” Harry said. “I mean, yes, we are.”
The two boys gawked at us, and I saw Harry turn red. Then, to our relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door.
“Fred? George? Are you there?”
“Coming, Mum.”
With a last look at us, the twins hopped off the train.
Harry and I sat down opposite each other, next to the window where, half hidden, we could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.
“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.”
The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.
“Mum—geroff!” He wriggled free.
“Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” one of the twins teased.
“Shut up,” Ron told the twin.
“Where’s Percy?” their mother asked.
“He’s coming now.”
The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and I noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter ‘P’ on it.
“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves–”
“Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” one of the twins asked with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”
“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” the other twin said. “Once–”
“Or twice–”
“A minute–”
“All summer–”
“Oh, shut up,” Percy the Prefect told them.
I easily gathered that these twins were the mischief makers of the family
“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” one of the twins asked.
“Because he’s a prefect,” their mother said fondly. “All right, dear, well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there.” She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins. “Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve—you’ve blown up a toilet or–”
“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”
“Great idea though, thanks, Mum.”
“It’s not funny. And look after Ron.”
“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”
“Shut up,” Ron repeated. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.
“Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?”
I saw Harry lean back quickly, and I followed so they couldn’t see us looking.
“You know those black-haired kids who were near us in the station? Know who they are?”
“Harry and Jessamine Potter?” the mother asked.
“Harry and Jessamine Potter!” the twins clarified. “Wait, how’d you know?”
“The girl told us her name. She’s very sweet,” their mother told them. “I wasn’t sure if it was really them, though. Apparently it is.”
I heard the little girl’s voice next.
“Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see them, Mum, please....”
“You’ve already seen them, Ginny, and the poor kids aren’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred?”
“Asked them. Saw the boy’s scar. It’s really there—like lightning.”
“Poor dears—no wonder they were alone, I wondered.”
“Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?”
Their mother suddenly became very stern.
“I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school.”
“All right, keep your hair on.”
A whistle sounded.
“Hurry up!” their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train.
They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.
“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.”
“We’ll send you a Hogwarts’ toilet seat.”
“George!”
“Only joking, Mum.”
The train began to move.
Harry and I saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved. I watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner.
Houses flashed past the window. I felt a great leap of excitement, and knew that somehow, my twin was feeling the exact same thing.
I didn’t know where we were going—all I knew was that it had to be better than what we were leaving behind.
The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.
“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat on the far side of the bench I was sitting on. “Everywhere else is full.”
Harry and I both shook our heads and the boy sat down. He glanced at us and then looked quickly out of the window in the door, pretending he hadn’t looked. I saw that he still had a black mark on his nose.
“Hey, Ron.” The twins were back. “Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”
“Right,” Ron mumbled.
“Harry, Jessamine,” the other twin said, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”
“Bye,” we all said.
The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
“Are you really the Potter Twins?” Ron blurted out.
Harry and I both nodded.
“Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” Ron said. “And have you two really got—you know...”
He pointed at our foreheads.
Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. I pulled my own bangs to the side to reveal the lightning slash that marred my face. Ron stared.
“So that’s where You-Know-Who-?”
“Yes,” Harry interrupted, “but we can’t remember it.”
“Nothing?” Ron asked eagerly.
“Well—we remember a lot of green light, but nothing else,” I told him.
“Wow,” Ron said.
He sat and stared at us for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realised what he was doing, he looked quickly out into the corridor again.
“Are all your family wizards?” Harry asked, who apparently found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him, us.
“Er—Yes, I think so,” Ron replied. “I think Mom’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”
“So you must know loads of magic already.”
I began to tune out their conversation, pulling out instead my copy of A History of Magic. Cracking it open, I read more.
I lost myself in the book, reading about the different subjects taught school and where they came from, which included the magic of transfiguring one thing into another and the mysterious mixing of ingredients to create magical potions that could do astounding things.
Eventually, however, I turned the page and my gaze snatched on the title of another chapter.
The Sacred Twenty-Eight
There are twenty-eight pureblood families, also known as the sacred twenty-eight. Because of their few numbers, they have all been catalogued and remembered with pride or disgust.
I flipped through a few pages until my gaze caught on the ‘M’s. Specifically the Malfoys who had that familiar family crest—a cursive ‘M’ with two dragons.
I read the passage, thinking curiously of my blonde friend.
The Malfoys are one of the most prestigious and rich purebloods, dating back hundreds of years. Recently, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy II, son of Abraxus Malfoy, married into the Black family through Narcissa Irma Malfoy (née Black). They have only one child who will be attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in the year 1991.
I reread that last sentence. That boy I saw in the store was the Malfoy kid, wasn’t he? He did have the crest on his chest. And Lucius Malfoy… the man from the bookstore… I looked up from my book and slammed it shut. This caught the two boys’ attention, and I stood, leaving my book on the seat I had just been in.
“Uh, why don’t the two of you bond? I’m going to go look for a friend I made last month, ’kay?”
I quickly slipped out of the compartment and shut the door behind me without waiting for an answer. I started towards the front of the train, scouring each compartment with my eyes, searching for a certain blonde boy. I had to squeeze past a dimpled lady pushing a cart covered in sweets, who was just a few doors down from the compartment Harry and Ron were. In the process, I snagged a small box of what seemed to be a cake, which the witch didn’t notice. While I walked, I composed a calm and sort of smug knowing as I opened the box.
If this boy actually was a Malfoy, then his father was Lucius. I actually met Lucius Malfoy, so I’m certain that this boy was his son. And, if he follows tradition, his middle name was his father’s first name. And the symbol for their family was the dragon. Dragon… The constellation! Draco! Of course!
Suddenly, I came across a compartment with three boys. Two of them were thickset and looked similar to bodyguards. The third was a thin, pale, blonde boy. The one I’d been searching for.
I immediately slammed the door open fiercely and stood in the doorway, a cake in my hand with the box flattened in my pocket. Shock crossed the two unfamiliar boys’ faces, but I paid them no attention. My friend—the Malfoy son—was looking at me with joy.
“Hey!” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Hello!” I told him brightly.
His eyes ran over my outfit. I looked down to see I was wearing a pale green jumper and a pair of baggy jeans. My trainers were old and scruffed up, as well. But I didn’t care.
“Muggle clothes?” he asked, confused. He and his two friends were already wearing their Hogwarts robes, and I guessed that these two were also ‘purebloods.’
“Yeah, well, I gotta blend in,” I told him.
He smiled at my sass, and gestured for me to join him.
“So. I never got your name?” he asked me.
“Nor I yours! Let me guess...” I told him as I feigned ignorance. “You, my friend, are Draco Lucius Malfoy.”
I stuck out my left hand for him to shake, but he just gaped at me.
“What?” I asked him, innocence dripping from my every action and word.
“H-how’d you— How’d you know?”
“Well, last time we met, you were wearing the Malfoy crest on your shirt: two dragons around the letter ‘M.’ And because of the dragons, and this is completely a guess, you might be named after the Dragon/Draco constellation, hence ‘Draco.’ Lastly, Lucius is your father’s name. I met him in Flourish and Blotts and he told me. I guessed that he gifted you his first name for your middle name. Am I right?”
Draco was still gaping at me, but now there was shock and awe in his expression. He nodded weakly. Then his gaze dropped down to my hand, and he frowned to see it was my left.
“You are also left handed. You carry your bag on your right shoulder to allow more movement for your left. Plus, your wand is in your left pocket, where your left hand would most easily be able to reach it,” I told him.
He quickly reached out and shook my hand vigorously, smiling.
“And who are you?” he asked when he finally managed to speak.
“Wanna guess?” I asked him smugly, smirking.
“Uh, I’m not sure I’ll get it. Can I get a hint?” he asked.
“Here,” I told him.
I raised my one available hand and used it to push my hair out of my face, where it usually resided, covering the entire left side of my face.
The three boys gasped and gaped.
“Y-you’re J-Jessamine Potter!” Draco finally exclaimed.
“Yup,” I told him, nodding. I dropped my hair back onto my face, smiling as I bit into the cake. “Call me Jessie.”
“Wait, is your brother on the train?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes, actually. You know, you’ve already met him,” I told him sneakily.
“What?”
“Yeah, he walked into Madam Malkin’s right after I left,” I told him.
His face brightened. “Can I meet him? Where is he?”
Before I could reply, he called to the two boys opposite us.
“Vince, Greg, let’s go find him!”
And suddenly, I was sitting in an empty compartment.
Well, that’s one way to get Draco’s attention! I rolled my eyes, smiling fondly.
I chuckled as I exited the cabin, and started to wander through the corridor. I was just looking inside the different compartments, watching the different students interact. I didn’t stop until I came across a cabin with only two students: a girl with lots of bushy, light brown hair, and the round-faced boy from the station. Neville, I think his name was.
I opened the door and heard the girl reassuring Neville.
“I’m sure we’ll find him. He can’t have gone far,” she told him.
The poor boy whimpered into his hands, and I assumed that he was crying.
“Um, hello. Have you lost your toad?” I asked.
The two kids, who seemed to be my age, looked up at me.
“Yes, actually. Neville’s lost his,” the girl said. She had a bossy voice and rather large front teeth. I liked her already.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ll keep an eye out,” I told them. “I’m Jessamine, by the way. But you can call me Jessie.”
“Hello, I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom,” the girl—Hermione—told me. She paused, her eyes widening. “Wait, Jessamine? As in Jessamine Potter?”
“The very same,” I told her.
“I read about you and your brother in one of my books. I even met Harry,” she told me, awe written on her face.
“Oh, which book?” I asked, intrigued.
I sat down next to Hermione, and we started talking. But when we began chatting about the supposedly enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts, three familiar boys rushed past our cabin. In their rush, they scared a small creature into our compartment through the door I’d forgotten to close.
“Trevor!” Neville announced happily, picking up the toad at our feet.
But I wasn’t paying attention. I was sticking my head out the cabin, looking after the three running boys. I looked the other way, wondering where they’d come from.
“Oh, um, I gotta go. Congrats on finding your toad, by the way! See you at school!” I called to them as I ran the way that my three new friends had come from.
On my way, I passed only one open door. Of course. The two people inside were Harry and Ron.
“What just happened?” I demanded, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up a rat by its tail.
“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said. He looked closer at the rat, which I assumed was his pet. “No—I don’t believe it—he’s gone back to sleep.”
I didn’t care.
“What just happened?” I demanded again.
“You’ve met Malfoy before?” Ron asked Harry, both of them ignoring me completely.
Harry briefly explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. I listened, irritated at being ignored.
“I’ve heard of his family,” Ron said darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” He turned to me. “Did you ask us something?”
“Yes. What just happened? Why did those three just run from here? What did you do?”
“Well,” Harry started. “This pale boy—Draco Malfoy—came in here with his two bodyguards and insulted Ron. Then he told me that he would be a better friend than Ron, and so I denied his friendship, obviously. He was very rude, threatened us, and tried to steal our candy. Then Scabbers bit him.”
“Who?” I asked.
“My rat,” Ron clarified.
“So you’re telling me that Draco came here, asked to be friends, and you attacked him?” I summarised.
“Uh, did you miss the whole threats and stealing part?” Harry asked me.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, why would I want to be his friend? He’s a spoiled brat!”
I glared at my brother, and he shrunk away slightly. I pulled my trunk and things down and hauled them out of the cabin silently before stating, “You really are thick, sometimes, you know that?”
His face exploded in shock, but as soon as I’d said it, I turned and stalked off to find Draco. The poor boy obviously was in awe of my brother, and Harry’d shut him down real hard.
I raced out to find Draco, and didn’t have to look long. He was crying in the cabin that he had started out in. I dragged in all my luggage, joining the three boys.
“Draco? Draco, are you alright?” I called worriedly, dropping my trunk on the floor in my haste to get to him.
Vince and Greg stood aside to let me through, and I saw that Draco was curled up in the corner, crying into his knees.
“Oh, Draco,” I called softly, reaching out for him.
Behind me, I heard some grunts and shuffling, but I ignored it. Draco was my priority right now.
I reached out and gently touched his arm. Draco flinched slightly, but eventually leaned into my embrace. I hugged him, patting his arm and brushing his hair as he sobbed into my jumper.
I said nothing, letting him cry it out until his sobs died down enough for him to be able to talk. I looked over my shoulder at the two boys behind us and read their body language. They were very uncomfortable.
Behind them, my trunk was up on the rack. That was what the noise was!
“Oh, thank you for putting up my trunk!” I said with gratitude. “Uh, would you two like to step out? I can take it from here.”
Looks of relief flooded their faces and they nodded. I smiled encouragingly and reached out a single hand.
“You can call me Jessie, by the way,” I told them.
“Vincent Crabb,” said the slightly shorter one.
“Greggory Goyle,” the second said.
They both shook my hand before slipping quickly out of the compartment. I turned back to Draco, wrapping both my arms comfortingly around him.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked him softly. He slowly shook his head. “Okay,” I told him simply.
I nodded, hugging him closer. He was warm and smelled of morning dew, fresh flowers, and a hint of lemons. He felt oddly... safe. Comforting and almost... homey?
As I embraced Draco and the feelings he brought me, I felt Draco relax and he leaned back from me slightly.
I looked down at his face: his eyes were wide and fresh tears still coated his cheeks, glistening from the overhead light. I met his gaze as he started to speak.
“Thank you,” he told me, his eyes wide and brimming with gratitude, awe, and tears.
“Don’t mention it,” I told him, smiling. “I know what happened, by the way. I asked my brother.” Draco’s face fell at the mention, but I continued. “I’m so sorry. He’s an arse, don’t take it personally.”
I waited for Draco to speak, but he stayed quiet. I turned us around so that we sat properly on the bench, slightly twisted in each other’s direction. I still had an arm around his shoulders, and he was leaning into me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked again.
“N-no,” he sniffed.
“Okay. Do you want me to talk?” I asked him.
He nodded, and so I began talking.
“Well, I’ve never had a haircut in my life. That’s why my hair is so long,” I started. He seemed to feel better listening to random facts about myself so I continued. “I have a cedar wand with a phoenix feather core. I read in a book that witches and wizards with a wand of cedar are usually people with very strong personalities and are extremely loyal. They are known to be protective of the ones they love.” I gave Draco a small shake. “You are the one of the most important people in my life, Draco. I’m really sorry about my brother.”
Draco smiled, and seemed to war with himself internally. I saw him think, and waited patiently for whatever he wanted to tell me.
He seemed to have come to a decision, and turned to me. His eyes were mostly dry, but his cheeks were still wet. I pulled my sleeve over my hand to wipe his face, and he let me.
“Thank you,” he gasped.
“Of course, Draco,” I told him again.
A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”
I looked at Draco. “I should probably change,” I told him.
He nodded, and I stood and pulled down my trunk. He sat silently, staring out the window as I pulled out my robes and wore them over my clothes. Vince and Greg came back in when I had reseated myself next to Draco, and soon, the train started slowing to a stop.
People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. I walked with Draco, Vince, and Greg, shivering in the cold night air. In front of us, I saw two boys, one with unruly black curls and another with brilliant red hair. My brother and his new friend.
Then a lamp came bobbing over our heads, and I heard a familiar voice call, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”
Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed at my brother over the sea of heads. I saw him lift his head to search the crowd for someone.
“Ah, Jessie! How ’bout yeh?” he asked me. I gave him a smile as he continued. “C’mon, follow me—any more firs’ years? Mind yer.”
Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down the steep, narrow path. It was very dark on either side of us. Nobody spoke much. I think I heard Neville sniffle once or twice.
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”
There was a loud “Oooooh!” from all sides.
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Draco, Vince, Greg, and I took a boat to ourselves.
“Everyone in?” Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, shouted. “Right then—FORWARD!”
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
“Heads down!” Hagrid yelled as the first boats reached the cliff.
We all bent our heads as the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbour, where we climbed out onto rocks and pebbles.
We clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
“Everyone here?” Hagrid confirmed before he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.