Train Ride

Chapter 9: Train Ride

The loud crack of Apparition echoed in Heather's ears as she and Susan were suddenly standing on the crowded Hogwarts platform. Amelia had barely released their shoulders when Susan bounded forward, eyes bright with excitement.

"We're really here!" Susan practically squealed, looking around at the clusters of students and families. Parents hugged their kids goodbye, pets squawked and meowed from cages, and the red Hogwarts Express loomed over them all, steam puffing from its chimney.

Heather forced a smile. She wanted to be excited like Susan, but the thought of going back to school made her stomach turn. Muggle school had been nothing but endless bullying and loneliness, and she couldn't help but wonder if Hogwarts would be the same. But she reminded herself that this was different. It was her shot at learning real magic—and maybe even making some friends. She glanced at Susan, who was practically bouncing as she looked up at her.

"Do you want to sit with me and my friends on the train?" Susan offered, looking hopeful.

Heather hesitated. Susan was nice, and she appreciated the invitation, but she wasn't ready to throw herself into a group just yet. "Thanks, Susan, but I think I'll find a quiet spot. I'll see you when we get there, alright?"

Susan's face fell a little, but she quickly covered it with a nod. "Alright. But let me know if you change your mind!" With that, she darted off to find her friends.

Heather hoisted her trunk onto the train, ignoring the curious looks she received. She navigated through the crowded corridors until she found an empty compartment and settled herself inside. As she unpacked, she pulled out a small book Amelia had given her on proper table manners. Heather eyed the cover skeptically, feeling a bit ridiculous. Table manners? She was only just learning that people didn't eat everything with their hands. But Amelia had insisted that, as a Potter, she would be expected to behave with dignity. And so here she was, about to read a section on the appropriate uses of spoons.

Heather flipped open the book, trying to focus on the neatly printed lines about cutlery. She barely made it through a few pages before there was a soft knock on her compartment door.

Looking up, she saw a red-haired boy peeking in, dressed in clothes that were worn and a little shabby. She recognized the look—secondhand, a bit too big, and obviously well-worn. It reminded her of her own threadbare clothes before Amelia had taken her in and insisted she have decent robes.

The boy gave her an awkward smile. "Uh, do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full…"

Heather shrugged. "Sure, go ahead."

He pushed the door open fully and dragged in his trunk, heaving it onto the overhead rack with some effort before plopping down across from her. He looked around the empty compartment, clearly relieved to have found somewhere to sit.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Heather Potter," she replied, noticing the way his eyes went wide at her name.

"Wait, you're the Heather Potter!?" he asked, leaning forward with a mixture of awe and surprise. "The one who… you know… took down that Death Eater in Diagon Alley?"

Heather felt a small flush creep up her cheeks. She wasn't exactly used to being recognized. "Uh, yeah. That was me. But it wasn't really a big deal. He attacked me first."

Ron stared at her for a moment, looking impressed. "Blimey. That's brilliant! Everyone's been talking about it. They say you're an archmage. Is that true?"

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. "I guess so. People like to make it sound more impressive than it was."

Ron's eyes were wide as saucers. "An archmage at eleven… that's not something you hear every day. My brothers are going to lose their minds when they hear this." He grinned, suddenly seeming more relaxed. "So, are you excited for Hogwarts?"

Heather considered it. "Yeah, I think so…"

Ron leaned back after waving, a broad grin plastered on his face. "So, what house do you think you'll be in?" He sounded genuinely curious, his eyes darting over Heather like he was trying to guess where she might fit.

Heather thought for a moment. Amelia had given her a pretty thorough description of each house. Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the intelligent, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Slytherin for the cunning. Honestly, they all sounded fine to her. The classes were the same regardless, and she didn't care much for the whole house rivalry thing Amelia mentioned. "I don't know. They all seem fine, I guess."

Ron's face dropped, like she'd just said something unthinkable. "You don't know? But what if you get Slytherin? My whole family's been in Gryffindor for generations! Slytherin's full of evil slimy snakes, everyone knows that. The Death Eater you beat was probably a Slytherin."

Heather frowned. "I don't see why it matters what house he was in. He was a grown man when he attacked me. His school house from years ago wouldn't change that."

Ron blinked a few times, processing that. "I guess, but still, Slytherin's bad news. All the dark wizards come from there. It's just what people say."

Heather shrugged. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I'm not worried about houses."

She started to tune out Ron as he launched into a monologue about Quidditch, a sport she'd only heard Amelia briefly mention. He was talking about the Chudley Cannons, a team she guessed wasn't very good based on how Ron described their "awful" win record. She made a mental note to learn more about Quidditch later, just so she wouldn't be completely lost when it inevitably came up again.

The sound of the train whistle pierced the air, and the platform outside started to move past as the Hogwarts Express began its journey. Heather felt a small jolt of nerves in her stomach as the train chugged forward. She looked out the window and spotted Amelia on the platform, standing tall and watching the train leave. To her surprise, Amelia caught sight of her through the glass and smiled, giving a little wave.

Heather felt her chest tighten with something warm and unfamiliar. She lifted her hand and gave a tiny wave back. It was strange, having an adult who seemed to care. She wasn't used to it. 

But she liked it… A little bit.

…

About an hour into the ride, Heather was starting to regret letting Ronald Weasley sit with her. He didn't stop talking, not even for a second, about anything and everything. He was obsessed with sharing stories about his huge, happy family. Every time he finished one tale, he tried to dig into Heather's background. He clearly couldn't read the room.

"My dad works for the Ministry, Heather. What does your dad do?" Ronald asked, his eyes wide and curious.

Heather didn't hesitate. "He's sitting in a hole in the ground."

Ron looked confused. "How come?"

"Because he's dead," she said flatly. She sighed and stood up, not missing the way his face dropped. "I'm going to get some air." 

Before leaving, she shrunk her trunk down and stuffed it in her pocket. She wasn't about to risk leaving it there.

Ron blinked. "Why are you doing that?"

"I don't trust people around my things." Heather stepped out of the compartment without a backward glance, ignoring the shocked noise Ron made. She wasn't planning on going back there anyway. The constant chatter was wearing her patience thin, and she needed to breathe.

Heather walked down the narrow corridor, peeking into each compartment as she passed. Most of them were full of students talking and laughing. A few looked up at her as she passed, their eyes darting curiously. She ignored them and kept moving. If she was lucky, she'd find an empty spot where she could sit quietly until they reached Hogwarts. 

At worst, she'd end up joining Susan Bones and her friends. They were nice enough but probably just as nosy. Heather rolled her eyes at the thought. All she wanted was some peace. 

Heather walked down the train corridor, the rumbling of the tracks beneath her feet. Most compartments were full, kids laughing and chatting loudly, making it feel like she was wandering through a maze of noise. She finally spotted one that wasn't completely packed. There was a single girl inside, about her age, with blonde hair that reached her shoulders. The girl was staring out the window, lost in her thoughts.

Heather slid open the door. "Mind if I sit here?" 

The girl turned, her expression calm but curious. She took a moment to size Heather up before nodding. "Go ahead."

Heather let out a breath, relieved, and dropped into the seat across from her. The silence between them was a welcome change. But it didn't last long before the girl spoke up.

"Why are you just finding a compartment now? The train's been moving for an hour."

Heather rolled her eyes. "I was sitting with a boy named Ron Weasley. He wouldn't shut up and kept asking the most annoying questions."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Weasley, huh?" 

"Yeah. He even tried to show me his pet rat at one point," Heather added, grimacing. "I've seen enough rats in alleys to know they're disgusting. He just kept it in his pocket."

The girl across from her gave a small smile. "You made a smart choice to leave. The Weasley family doesn't have the best reputation in the wizarding world."

Heather's jaw clenched. "Because they're poor?" she asked sharply, feeling a defensive edge. If this girl was going to look down on people for their money, Heather was ready to find a new seat.

The girl shook her head. "Of course not. Money comes and goes, and no one with magic is ever truly poor," she said. There was a hint of something knowing in her expression. "As for why the Weasleys aren't well liked… that's a longer story. I might tell you one day, it depends..."

Heather's curiosity piqued. "What does it depend on?"

"Whether or not we become friends," the girl said with a smirk.