AN: Alright, so I deleted the story I originally had up because I decided to change a bit of the plot. I hope to continue on with this story, and hopefully you all will enjoy! I so wish I could meet JK Rowling, gah.
You'd think a train taking you to a wizard school would be, well, magical. But no. The steam train's most prominent feature was its bright red paint job. Getting to the train's platform was much more interesting, however. Izzy had been panicking, wondering how she'd ever get to Hogwarts. She didn't have an owl to send letters, or any other pet for that matter. Why couldn't that Dumbledore man have given her more information?
Izzy felt her ears turn warm and red as angry tears pricked her eyes. This is hopeless. I'll bet that this was all some cruel prank that Jackson set up or something, or that Madam Lacey did to get rid of me. In her panic, she nearly missed the raven-haired boy wandering around with an identical look of confusion on his face. She put her cold hands to her ears to cool them down. The boy was thin and a good few inches taller than her. He was carrying a cart just like hers, except his held a gorgeous snowy-white owl. Izzy gasped at the creature. She had always been fascinated by owls.
Watching curiously, she saw him walk up to a large group of people. There were two identical boys and one wearing horn-rimmed glasses. The other was nearly as tall as the twins. The other was a rather plump woman holding hands with a small girl who looked a cross between angry and sad. They all had fiery red hair like telephone booths.
They're a family, she realized, with a bittersweet pang that resonated somewhere in her stomach. The mum was rubbing the nose of the shortest boy. He didn't seem too happy about it. She pushed the urge to giggle back down her throat.
The black-haired boy had approached the mother and spoke to her softly. Izzy was greatly confused by what she saw next. The spectacles-boy took a start and strode towards the brick barrier. She blinked and he was gone. The same went for the twins, and then the mum and daughter, and then the shortest boy and the black-haired boy. After they were gone, she stood for a few seconds, swaying. Then, as if in a body not her own, by instinct she walked towards the same barrier.
This is insane, she thought anxiously. I'm going to crash into the wall and make a fool of myself in front of all these people and oh, what if they catch me and ask me what I'm doing and where my parents are? What am I going to tell them? She closed her eyes as the cart was mere inches away from the wall. There was a momentary silence, and then noise smothered her ears. Opening her eyes, she saw a brilliant red steam train that read Hogwarts Express.
That brought her back to her original thought: You would think a train taking young witches and wizards to ruddy Hogwarts would be a bit more, well, magical.
Izzy's mouth hung slightly open as she gazed in awe. Platform 9 ¾ was nothing interesting compared to the actual people who were bustling here and there. There were witches and wizards wearing robes of all colors, from lime green, to bright orange, to dark purple. All were surrounded by kids, some of whom were carrying pets like toads, rats, and, Izzy gasped, owls.
She saw a round-faced boy looking mortified being scolded by his grandmother as she walked by. "Neville, I can't believe...lost him again...happens at Hogwarts?" Pulling her eyes away, Izzy wondered how she was going to get her trunk on the train. She found an empty compartment, and stood on the steps with the trunk just in front of her. Izzy lifted one end of it from the bottom corners. About five minutes later, she was sweating and panting with only one end of the trunk up the stairs.
Plopping herself down on the floor, she wiped her brow and tried to catch her breath. I can't do this, she thought miserably. There was only four more minutes before the train was off. Just then, she heard voices coming up behind her. She stood and brushed her skirt hurriedly.
"-so father says that I can't bring my broom to Hogwarts because first years aren't allowed, but this was in front of the Minister, you see, at home he told me he'd find a way to send it to me at Hog-" The pale, blonde boy and the two boys behind him went quiet as they approached Izzy. The two boys flanking the pale one looked big and stupid, at least in Izzy's opinion. The actual pale boy didn't look very kind, though, she supposed, was very good looking. I'll call him Blondie, she decided. Something about this boy intimidated her. Instead of backing down, she drew herself up to full height and looked straight in his pale grey eyes, daring him to speak first.
Blondie gave her a once over and noticed her bated breathing and trunk half on and off the train. He nodded towards it. "Do you need help with the trunk?" he drawled. Whatever Izzy had expected him to say, that wasn't it. Eyes widened slightly, she nodded her head. She leaped out of the train and grabbed the end that was still half off. Her arms shook, but held the weight nonetheless. The boy walked over to her. "Here, I'll grab this end. You're a girl, you won't be able to lift it long," he smirked.
Heat flushed her cheeks as spikes of anger bubbled in her stomach. He was a sexist little pig, on top the cold, arrogant demeanour. "Excuse me, but I've held it this long. If you could just grab the other end and lift instead of talking, that would be very nice, thank you," she said through gritted teeth, glaring at him. He looked a bit taken aback, but did as she said. His goons stood by, watching the exchange, heads moving back and forth from Izzy to Blondie as though watching a captivating game of tennis.
Finally, the trunk was on the train. The train had started to move less than a minute after, at which time Izzy and Blondie. Both Blondie and Izzy were breathing hard. "Thank you," Izzy said when she had caught her breath. "No problem," he replied. The twinge of pink that had appeared on his cheeks had faded and his breathing had evened out.
"C'mon, Crabbe, Goyle." The boys turned and began to leave.
She assumed those were the names of the two larger boys. I wonder what the Blondie's name is. Before she lost her nerve, she ran up to him and tapped his shoulder, her long, dark, red-brown hair swinging behind her. He turned.
"What?" he said, sounding annoyed.
"I realized I never caught your name. I'm Izzy Griffiths," she put her hand out.
He took it and shook. It was cold and waxy, almost as if he were a statue at Madame Tassauds.
"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
She felt a giggle pushing its way up her throat. He sounds like he's trying to be like James Bond. Part of that giggle escaped. Blondie-no, Draco-frowned.
"You're one of us, right?"
The question caught her off-guard.
"I'm a witch, if that's what you mean,".
Draco looked frustrated, the corners of his mouth facing downwards.
"No, you silly bint, I mean, are you a pureblood?".
Izzy had no idea what that was. Her confusion must have shown because Draco's face twisted in disgust.
"I'm sorry, Draco, what?" Izzy said it cheekily. To be honest, she didn't know what that meant, but it was easy to tell that it was some sort of an insult.
Draco sneered. "I called you a mudblood. Just that fact you don't know what filth you are makes you worse." He turned away from Izzy's outraged face, looking over his shoulder to say "Oh, and it's Malfoy to you. Crabbe, Goyle," Draco-no, Malfoy!-motioned to his goonies and left the compartment without another word.
Izzy was furious. She still didn't know what 'mudblood' meant, but he had called her filth. That much was enough to understand that she did not want to be anywhere near him at school. Professor Dumbledore had briefly explained the idea of Houses, how there were four, all of them with very odd names, and each had students of a different quality trait. She remembered there was one for the wise, and one for the ambitious and cunning. She couldn't remember the other two but all she knew was that she didn't want to be in the same House as that slimy git!
Izzy left her compartment to explore after she had cooled down a bit. She peeped into a compartment. The was a tall black boy sitting with two very familiar-looking red-heads. They were leaned over something and talking animatedly. Without a warning they stood up and made to the door. Izzy fell backwards, trying to make way for the elder boys who were carrying something.
They looked kindly down at her, if a little amused, as she picked herself up off the ground, blushing madly
"Er, sorry. I didn't mean to spy, it's just, well, I saw you two-" she nodded slightly in the direction of the red-heads, "-on the platform and I don't really know anyone else, and, well, now I'm not really sure what to say so I'll just shut up now." She said all this is a great rush.
"That's alright. You're a first year?" the black boy said.
Izzy moved her head up and down violently, not trusting that bloody mouth of hers.
"Well than. I'm Lee Jordan," he held out his hand. She tentatively shook it.
The red heads had equally mischievous looks on their faces as they held out their hands. Izzy found herself liking them already, even without knowing their names.
"I'm Fred," intoned the one on her right.
"And I'm George," said the one on her left.
They grinned wickedly, and spoke together: "Welcome to Hogwarts."