not proof-read!

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chapter three: welcome to hogwarts!
word count: 3.4K
warnings: stuff i wrote when i was tired
and sleepy, writing that isn't proofread,
proof that i had social anxiety as a child
bc idk how to make friends, stuff i wrote
while being high on iced coffee
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TIME HAD BEEN ANYTHING BUT MERCIFUL towards the Potter the entire week. She had flipped through the whole History of Magic, successfully managed to find a name for her owl - Estrella, after the Spanish name meaning star -, practiced the wand movements from the books, read through the Muggle textbooks, and even been a cat-sitter for her neighbor, who was also her music teacher, on three occasions.

Her 'family' hadn't bothered her at all. Aunt Petunia gave her her meals in her room, and Dudley kept his distance after his incident with Hagrid. Uncle Vernon hadn't given a rat's arse about her earlier, and he continued with the same.

She felt free, having the independence to finally go out of the house and roam the streets, and go to the park and swing on the swings, and go to the library and just linger around and read any book she found, simply because she could do all those things now.

Now that the day of her departure to Hogwarts was finally here, she couldn't suppress her excitement. She wasn't used to such excitement in the first place, so she couldn't hide it if she wanted to.

Her trunk was all packed up the night before with her books and her clothes - not like there were many. Her head was all tied up neatly, - well as neat as possible, and her clothes were picked out for the day. She could barely sleep at night with her head swarming with thoughts and speculations about her time at Hogwarts, but she was barely aware of what was to come.

A little hum stuck in the back of her throat, hurried steps and a little worried frown now etching on her head, she couldn't help but feel anxious thoughts creep up like shadows in the night, lingering in the back of her mind.

"What if the train leaves me? What if I'm not actually a witch and Hagrid got the wrong person? What if I can't make it to the platform in time? What if I don't find the platform at all? I'm sure Auntie Loony Tunes and Uncle Vernon won't have me back."

When Hagrid gave her the ticket, he didn't exactly give her directions on how she would have to get to the platform.

She was sure it wouldn't just pop up in broad daylight, considering that was how Diagon Alley was found.

Her slightly larger shoes dragged her through the crowd hustling to get to work, some muttering 'sorry' when they bumped into her, others simply giving her nasty looks as if the child were the sole reason for their delay.

Finally, like the support of a mere straw to a drowning man, she noticed that boy who sat beside her in Diagon Alley, standing by his parents and a slightly taller boy, all of them with hair as white as the clouds.

The man who towered over his children and glared at anyone and everyone who looked at him in curiosity - he was dressed in all black robes and held a weird black stick thing in his hand - was the reason Azalea hesitated in asking for help from the family.

But then she glanced at the time and realized this was no place to back out.

"Uhm, ex-excuse me," she stuttered, wincing when she caught herself doing so. She hadn't approached either of the men, but headed straight towards the lady, since she was the only one who seemed the slightest bit approachable out of the four of them. "Could you, - could you please tell me how to . . .-"

"How to get on the platform?" the lady completed when she noticed that the girl couldn't word the sentence properly. "Not to worry, dear, all you have to do is run straight through that wall, with no hesitation in your mind. Just close your eyes and run in. Here, Atlas, will show you how to."

'Atlas', who was the older of the two boys, rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath about having to do this again, then grabbed his trolley and ran head-first into the wall separating platforms 9 and 10.

While she was watching how Atlas ran into the wall, she heard a vague whisper about the boy already having met her in Madam Malkin's. She sighed and tugged at her sleeves again - she hadn't exactly had the most pleasant first impression with the boy who'd brought up the topic of her dead parents as if it was just a mere question about the weather.

"Narcissa. . ." the man began, exasperation lacing his tone, until he noticed the scar on Azalea's forehead as she tugged her bangs back. He was about to complain about 'not having enough time to help clueless mud-bloods who didn't even deserve this school in the first place', but then suddenly he stopped, and even urged his son to go on ahead and befriend the girl.

Weirdo.

"Come on, now, we don't want to be late, do we?" Narcissa, as she'd just learnt the woman's name, urged the kids to get on the platform. She gestured for Azzie to begin first, and for Draco to follow.

Azalea closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact of the wall, for the bricked surface to collide with her head and send her into a probable concussion.

It didn't, obviously. Instead, she passed right through the wall and onto a platform, the most wonderful scene she could have imagined.

The majestic steam engine was the first to catch her eye, red and black standing out against the faded brown tiles of the platform. Written in gold over the red background was Hogwarts Express, right on the face of the steam engine. A board saying 9¾ was hung right in the corner of the wall that greeted the kids as they entered the platform.

Then there was the scene that she knew she would never get to experience; where families came to say good-bye to their children, with tears in their eyes but smiles on their lips, with both - the sorrow of seeing your child grow up, as well as the happiness for the same, brimming up their hearts.

Then there was a scene that she did expect to see, where the families were anything but warm towards their child going away to boarding school, a scene she was sure would've occurred if Vernon had come to see her off.

Humming lightly to a song that had been stuck in her head, she managed to grab hold of the fact that the train was about to leave, so help her God, and she couldn't even drag her trunk in.

Letting out miserable grunts and groans, she finally gave up when she leaned against the wall of the train and let out a long sigh.

She wasn't helpless for long, however, since two lanky redheads came up to her and just...offered help.

Yeah, that was unusual.

"Need 'elp with tha', kiddie?"

"Kiddie? What're yeh, George, 40?"

"Was just tryin' to act older Fred, geez."

"Well don't, you're not very good at it."

"Yeah!" she butted in. "I, - I can't get the trunk on the train. It's too heavy for me, apparently."

Her cheeks burned a pale red, for she wasn't used to asking for help, neither was she used to admitting defeat so easily. Right now, though, there was neither time nor energy left within her to argue against herself and try to drag that piece of metal up the train until the last possible minute.

"Oh well, I'm Fred." said the boy who'd offered her help, or the one who'd criticised the other? She couldn't tell, - they were twins, after all.

"I'm Azalea." Azzie gave a bright smile, letting out another sigh, but this one was one of excitement. "Thanks for helping me!"

"Wait, Azalea?"

"As in Azalea Potter?"

"...yes. You do realise that it is a little creepy how that just...clicked?" Azalea raised her eyebrows, suddenly feeling very awkward. And a little creeped, as she just mentioned.

"You're Azalea bloody Potter, the Girl Who Lived." Ginger one shrugged without a care. "We were bound to put two and two together."

The boys left soon, probably running off to tell a few of their friends that they'd just met the Girl Who Lived. Azalea, however, pondered over whether this is what she would have to deal with, in the upcoming days; People randomly coming up to her and examining her like a museum exhibit.

But then the train lurched as it began to pull out from the station, and she quickly found a compartment - which was thankfully empty - where she could be lost in her own thoughts until they reached Hogwarts.

That notion was thrown out the window when the boy she'd met at Madam Malkin's - Pale-Face, was it? - just...sat down in front of her.

Without even asking if he could, can you believe that? How rude.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." he grinned, extending his hand out for a handshake. She raised her eyebrows - she tended to do that a lot - and shook his hand, "I'm Bond, James Bond."

Draco, however, couldn't understand. "Aren't you the Potter Girl?"

"I-I am," Azzie stuttered, surprised that he couldn't get that popular reference. "It was just a reference, - don't you know James Bond?"

"Who's that?" Draco crinkled his nose, distaste for the name evident in his features. "Not a mudblood, I hope."

"What's a mud-"

"Hello! Do you mind?" another ginger showed up at the compartment door, similar to the twins. He gestured towards the empty seats in the compartment, unaware of Draco slumped in the corner. "Everywhere else is full."

"Of course not." Azalea, ever the darling, gave a bright smile.

"Red hair, and hand-me-down clothes." Draco sneered as soon as he saw the red-head in view. He clearly didn't want the boy to sit with Azalea, and Azalea didn't like that - especially when she saw the boy's face turn down. "You must be a Weasley."

"I wonder why you didn't assume why I was one as well, then. We do look similar, Draco."

"Because you're Azalea Potter!" Draco exclaimed like that was the only valid explanation, because, well, it was. Azzie didn't even bother asking how he knew that it was her - at this point, her scar didn't want to stay hidden under her bangs.

It wanted its time to shine.

"W-Wait so, is it true?" the boy who'd asked to sit with them, who now sat on the far corner of the seat opposite to Azalea, very very away from Draco, asked, awe in his eyes. "That you have the-the-"

"The scar?" Maybe it was done with its time in the spotlight. She lifted her bangs, and gave a grim grin, "Of course! Unfortunately." The last part was muttered under her breath, and luckily, neither of the boys heard her.

"Woaah!" the new boy exclaimed, then face-palmed, "I'm Ron Weasley!"

"That's Draco, and you can call me Azzie!"

Now, Draco would much rather sit anywhere else than with a blood-traitor, but with the way Azalea was talking with the new boy - Ron, was it? - made it clear that if he had to stay here, he'd have to deal with the Weasel.

So he joined in the conversation, clearly surprising Azalea and Ron who probably expected him to leave, and though he'd never admit it, Weasel was pretty amusing to be around.

. . .

ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH the train ride, Draco had adapted to not being disgusted around Weasley.

He would never ever tell this to anyone, but when he saw that Weasley had brought in a rat instead of a boring old owl, he felt a tiny pang of jealousy.

Well, that was until he saw that the rat was about as lively as a corpse.

He was back to liking his owl, Ebony, just then.

"God, I'm starving," Ron remarked, his stomach grumbling.

"Then buy something from the trolley, Weasel." Draco rolled his eyes. Why can't people be as smart as him?

As if on cue, the trolley lady came around, a bright smile on her tired face, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Ron gave a rueful smile, holding up his mushed sandwiches, "I'm all set, thanks."

It was clear that Ron wouldn't want to eat...that, so on an impulse, Azalea jumped up, "We'll take the lot!"

"...We will?" Draco, admittedly excited, was skeptical.

"We will." Azalea nodded, her childish excitement shining through her grin. "Come on, Ronald, help me get everything in."

All the while the lady used her magic to bring the candies into the compartment, Azalea was looked upon as if she were crazy, - but well, she was used to those looks, wasn't she?

"Woah!" the trio gasped once the treats were in. Both Ron and Draco knew that there was a lot of sweets on the train, but they never knew that they'd be enough to fill an entire seat.

A little while later, when they'd gotten through the normal, basic sweets, Azalea spotted a colourful box, "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?"

"They mean every flavour." Draco answered before Ron could - it was his favourite sweet, after all - "There's chocolate and peppermint, but there's also liver, spinach and tripe."

"Yeah, George swore he got a bogey-flavour once!"

As soon as Azalea heard that, she spit out the bean she had in her mouth, her mouth scrunching up in disgust. Ron chuckled.

She then noticed a very pretty, small box, on which 'chocolate frog' was written. Intrigue written on her face, she picked it up, feeling ridiculous as she asked, "They're not actual frogs, are they?"

"It's just a charm." Draco looked at her as if she was insane. Surely, no one eats actual frogs? "Besides, it's the cards you want. Each pack's got a famous wizard or witch."

"I've got about 500 meself," Ron spoke proudly, but before his work could be acknowledged, the frog from the packet jumped out, - "Watch it! That's rotten luck, they've only got one good jump in them to begin with."

"I've got Dumbledore!" Azalea completely disregarded Ron's statement, unintentionally of course.

"I've got about six of him." Draco nodded towards the card, then sighed when he realized he got Dumbledore too. "Seven, now."

When Azalea flipped her card, she saw that Dumbledore's image had disappeared, "Hey! He's gone."

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day, can you?" Ron spoke, but then a squeak interrupted him. He sighed and picked up the rat on his lap, "This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic, isn't he?"

"...just a little bit." Azalea winced, she didn't like being rude to anyone, not even a pathetic little rat.

"Very pathetic." Draco chewed on his liqourice wand. He definitely didn't notice Ron's glare.

"Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow." Ron's excitement was back. "Wanna see?"

"Yes!" both the kids nodded, even though Draco knew that the spell he was taught was probably non-existent.

Ron sighed through his nose, then prepared himself as he pointed his wand towards the little creature, "Sun-"

"Has anyone seen a toad?" came a voice from the door. Turning around, the kids say a bushy haired girl standing there, already dressed in her school robes, "A boy named Neville's lost his."

"No." Ron simply shook his head, then looked back at his rat, ready to complete the spell, when she interrupted again.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" the girl welcomed herself into the compartment, sitting opposite the three kids. "Well, let's see then."

Ron cleared his throat, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"

Scabbers didn't even budge, chewing onto one of the candies. Ron shrugged, he'd been pranked again.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the new girl frowned. "It's not very good, is it? Of course, I've only tried a few simple ones myself, but they've all worked for me. For example..." the girl looked around and spotted the cracked locket sitting on Azalea's collarbone. "Oculus Reparo!"

The duct tape holding the two parts of the locket together vanished and soon, it was shining and clean, good as new. Azalea's eyes widened as she fiddled with her locket, eyes locking with the new girl, "Woah!"

The locket had been gifted to her by her childhood friends, Janus, Calypso, and Calantha, on her eleventh birthday - the same year they'd all had to move away.

"Thank you." Azalea gave the new girl a toothy grin, who in return gasped when she noticed her scar, "Holy crickets, you're Azalea Potter! I'm Hermione Granger, and you are...?"

The look of disgust that came over Hermione's face when she saw Ron stuffing his face with candies was almost comical, but Draco still maintained his composure, because holy crap this mudblood was already better at magic than he was.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." the said boy nodded, then looked at Ron, who spoke with his mouth full.

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"Lovely," Hermione grimaced, the disgust on her face magnifying by almost a thousand, if possible. Then she squinted a little, and while getting up, talked to Ron, - "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know? Just...there."

Ron, embarrassed, quickly tried to rub it off.

"Oh, and you three should change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon."

. . .

PUSHING THROUGH THE THRONG of awaiting and excited first years just like he was, Castor Walker tried to get a glimpse of the beautiful castle he'd soon be going to study in.

He had read the books and heard the stories, but the actual sight awaiting him was truly a lot more wonderful than the words and descriptions, especially in the night, the time he loved the most.

"This way to the boats!" he heard a deep, familiar voice rumble, then he realized - this was the same man who was with Azalea in Diagon Alley. "C'mon, then, follow me!"

He heard the gasps and whispers, some of excitement, some of fear, all of them coming from around him, as soon as they'd boarded the boats.

Hogwarts, he noticed as they neared the castle, was a magnificent sight, with the tall towers and beautiful mountains, the candles in the windows lighting way for them like the flickering stars of the night sky, - which, by the way, shone so brightly above the castle, as if creating a lovely border around the tall walls of the school.

Soon, they were walking together to the castle, through the marble hallways, candlelit pathways and up to some stairs leading up to huge doors, which presumably, would lead them into the school.

Wow, Castor, such a genius!

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" said a high-pitched voice, and when he looked up, he saw that the voice belonged to a strict-looking lady who peered down at them through her glasses and held a scroll in her hands. "Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup."

As soon as she was done, he heard a tiny voice squeak, "Trevor!" and a scared-looking boy running up to the top of the stairs, right at the Professor's feet.

Azalea, on the other hand, assumed this to be Neville, the boy who'd lost his toad. She chuckled softly when she heard his sheepish 'sorry', though she did have to admit that the Professor was intimidating.

When the Professor left to attend to something behind the door, Azalea let out a sigh of relief.

That didn't last for long because she soon heard her name being a common murmur on the lips of the children around her, and she just knew that she was going to become a popular topic soon, - for the good or the worse, that was for her to find out.