Our goodbyes were not tearful, nor very emotional. Time seemed to slip by for us, unnoticed. We were merely parting for a season. It wasn’t a sad time. In fact, it was happy; we didn’t have to change our identities or appearances. The last time I was at Hogwarts, I was the short, pudgy, blonde Rebecca Storms. I had hated that body. Now that I was in the lean, tall, graceful body I had grown accustomed to, my future looked a little brighter. Ah, the beauties of being a Metamorphmagus (which had nothing to do with my immortality, though my whole family possessed the gift).
I Apparated early in the morning to the alley behind the train station. I dragged my trunks behind me, the items inside magically condensed so they didn’t hold as much weight. The platforms were crowded, so I had to push a little bit to get to my destination. Once I reached platform nine and three-quarters, I slid through the brick pillar easily and, like everything, under the radar, unnoticed. I left my trunk next to the loading station by the baggage compartment and drifted toward the train thoughtlessly. I hadn’t seen the Hogwarts Express in a long while, and old memories flooded over me like water.
I had never really connected with anyone in my past terms at Hogwarts. I wasn’t ever lonely; I just didn’t make close friends. I was the Observer. I watched and analyzed friendships and relationships and predicted their outcomes. I was always right.
At every Triwizard Tournament I had attended, I had ignored the Goblet of Fire. Why enter my name? I was never egotistical, but I felt that I would honestly have an advantage over the others with my several years of extra experience. I always went to the Yule Ball with this boy or that boy and had my fill of capricious fun. My date was often a complete stranger, as most of the students were. I spoke when spoken to and answered when asked something. I ignored the advances of obnoxious boys and avoided kind girls seeking new friends. I was simply a Watcher.
Sliding into the first empty compartment I saw, I bought a few things off the trolley immediately and threw my feet onto the seat across from me, crossing them at the ankles. I might as well get comfortable. I mentally sketched out the personality I would attempt this year. The good thing about always having another opportunity is that I can always be someone else, try on new personas. I came to a quick conclusion: I was going to do something completely different for the coming term. I was going to be friendly and meet as many people as I could.
That was my plan, until a grinning boy entered my compartment, obviously pushed in by another smiling boy outside. I fell underneath my involuntary, apathetic mask and looked out the window silently. This boy didn’t deserve my attention; his very presence bespoke arrogance.
“My name is Aiden. Aiden Silkwood,” he half-laughed, winking at his friend through the door, which he had closed, “and I will be your escort to Hogwarts. You’re new, right?”
I nodded slightly, noting his Gryffindor badge through the corner of my eye. He was already dressed in his robes? He didn’t have a Prefect badge. What he did have was beautiful, sea green eyes and sandy blonde hair. Noticing this made him even harder to ignore, but centuries of practiced helped me keep my poker face while I chastised myself silently. He was too insignificant to ruin everything.
“Well, I guess you’ll get a Private Sorting, then. They haven’t done that in a long time, I hear. Want to know why?” His eyes were dancing. I had never seen dancing eyes.
“Not particularly,” I murmured in a bored monotone, but I was truly curious. I knew why, of course. It had been Pieter, and not really that long ago. I was just curious to see how he would tell the story.
He continued anyway, almost predictably. “It’s because we never get transfer students. Everyone is either a Muggle or has gone to Hogwarts since they were eleven. You, my friend – I didn’t catch your name by the way – are different.”
I purposely side-stepped his almost-question and continued staring out the window. I knew that I was different, of course. I didn’t need an airheaded, pompous child to tell me that. If I wasn’t different, I would have been dead long ago. But he naturally didn’t know that, so I had to remain civil.
Aiden stared at me for a moment before saying, “I can tell you’ll be in Gryffindor. You’re headstrong, I can tell – stubborn. No girl has ever ignored me before.” He was definitely a conceited jerk. “You’re probably smart, too. But about the Private Sorting – you should invite me! I’ve never seen one, of course, and it’ll be cool. I mean, I think it will. I don’t really know what happens. Do you?”
Would he ever stop talking?
“Before the first years are sorted, they take me into the Headmaster’s office and stick a tattered old hat on my head. He says the name of a House and then I join everyone else in the Great Hall.” I didn’t bother looking at him. I knew his eyes were dancing.
“Oh. Sounds…cool…” His tone was obviously disappointed.
I snorted, and he took this as a response and continued talking about himself and his life and every detail that I usually ignored about people. After I while, I stood, walking past him and out the door. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to get my robes on,” I replied, and paused for a moment, before saying, “I’ll be back in a sec.” I didn’t know why I said it; in any other case, I wouldn’t have bothered. It was what a normal person would say to someone they knew; I didn’t know Aiden. I was sort of comfortable, though, and the words seemed unusually natural to say. So I did, just before leaving. A walking contradiction.
I really did have every intention of returning, but just as I was about to reenter, the train stopped. We had arrived at Hogwarts.