I fidgeted with my thumbs, watching my father’s car pull up to the street beside King’s Cross Station. Even though I’d painted my nails last night, they were already chipping. I tucked my hands under my thighs.
Today was the day I’d be going to Hogwarts. For the past five years, I’d attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France. My mother had gone there, and she’d practically forced me to go. I hated it. The girls made fun of me because my French wasn’t fluent.
My mother died in May. Murdered by Death Eaters for being a muggleborn. Even though we didn’t have the best relationship, I missed her every single day. Thinking about her always twisted my heart with guilt. I wished I’d appreciated her more while she was alive. Before she was murdered, I hadn’t supported Voldemort or his Death Eaters, of course. But now I just resented them. I wanted them to pay for what they’d done to her.
“We’re here, sweetie,” my father said. “I have to get to work, so can I just drop you off?”
I nodded. “That’s fine, Dad.”
“I love you, you know that, right?” He patted my leg. “Have a good year. And promise me you’ll write.”
I smiled. “I promise. I love you too, Dad.”
“Make sure you don’t get sorted into Slytherin!” He exclaimed. He’d gone to Hogwarts when he was younger and had been a Gryffindor.
I rolled my eyes. “Dad, really? Do you really think that little of me?”
He chuckled as I pushed open the car door and stepped out. The wind hit me like a cold slap. I flinched as I closed the door behind me. I walked around to the back of the car and wrestled open the boot. I hauled out my trunk, crammed full of everything I needed for school.
I dragged the trunk into the station. It was heavier than I expected, considering I’d bought all the required course books and a few extras that had caught my eye. I’d always loved to read. When I was being mocked at Beauxbatons, losing myself in books was the only escape.
I glanced up at the platform numbers. 8, 9, 10… but no 9 ¾. Just like my father had said. I looked around. Surely other wizards were trying to find the train, right?
My eyes landed on a family heading my way – a mother, father, and a son about my age. The father had pale, long blond hair and a nasty smirk. The son looked like a younger version of him, with shorter hair. The mother had hair that was black on the outside and blonde on the inside. She had kind eyes, but her expression screamed, *I’m better than you.* They were dressed strangely, wearing long, flowing robes. They had to be wizards.
“Train leaves in ten minutes,” the woman said, her voice sharp. “We better hurry.”
Ten minutes. My train left in ten minutes. These people were definitely wizards.
“Excuse me?” I blurted out. They all turned to me. The man looked at me like I was an idiot.
“What do you want?” he drawled.
“Are you going to Hogwarts?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
“My son attends Hogwarts,” the woman said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Why do you ask?”
I realized I probably sounded ridiculous, asking how to get there at sixteen. “I’m transferring from Beauxbatons,” I explained. “I just don’t know how to get onto the platform.”
“A transfer student?” The woman said sweetly. “Well, you just run into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10.”
To anyone else, this would sound insane. But in the wizarding world, nothing was normal. I nodded. “Right.”
“Draco will go first.” She nudged her son. He glanced at me with a bored expression before grabbing his trolley and running forward. He disappeared into the brick wall.
I grabbed my trolley and ran toward the wall. When I emerged, I was in a crowded platform. My eyes widened. Dozens of witches and wizards were saying goodbye to their families. The man and woman appeared behind me.
“Thank you,” I said.
The woman smiled at me in a way that made my heart feel strangely content. She reminded me of my own mother.
I turned around and started toward the train. It was scarlet, spewing steam. Suddenly, someone bumped into me.
“Watch where you’re going,” a voice sneered. I spun around. It was the son of the woman who’d helped me.
“Pretty sure *you* bumped into *me*,” I snapped. “You should watch where you’re going.”
He narrowed his eyes. “D- do you know who I am?” He clearly meant to sound intimidating, but it wasn’t working.
“Am I supposed to?” I laughed, a little darkly.
He looked at me one more time before shoving past me and onto the train. I rolled my eyes. Great. People here were just like they were at Beauxbatons – all superiority complexes and sneers.
I climbed aboard the train, taking in the sight of it. Students of all ages bustled around. I looked around for a compartment to sit in. I glanced into one. There were three people in it. I pulled open the door. Two boys with brown hair. One had round glasses and a strange scar on his forehead. The other was holding a weird plant. There was also a girl with dirty blonde hair. She was holding a piece of paper and reading it upside down. I cleared my throat. “Can I sit here?”
They all looked up at me like they were trying to remember who I was. The boy with the glasses shrugged. “Sure.”
I smiled and slid into the seat next to him. “Thanks.”
“I’m Harry,” he introduced. “This is Neville and Luna.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied. “I’m Evangeline Hastings, but you can call me Eva.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Luna said, her voice dreamy.
I looked at her. “No, I’m transferring from Beauxbatons.”
“Beauxbatons?” Neville said, surprised. “I didn’t know Hogwarts accepted transfer students.”
“Apparently they do,” I shrugged.
“Are you French?” Harry asked.
I shook my head. “No, I just went there because my mum did.” I looked at him closely. “Wait, are you *Harry Potter*?”
He looked surprised. “How do you know my name?”
I laughed. “Everyone knows about Harry Potter, silly. I just figured you were, considering the name and the scar.”
“Oh,” he said miserably. “Yeah.”
Before I could ask why he looked miserable, the compartment door slid open. A tall boy with ginger hair and a girl with frizzy brown hair came in. I shifted over in my seat to make room.
“Who are you?” the boy asked.
“Oh, I’m Evangeline,” I replied.
“She transferred here from Beauxbatons,” Neville explained.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Seriously.”
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Hermione, and this is Ron.” She gestured to the boy.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“What year are you going into?” Hermione asked.
“Sixth,” I replied.
“So are we,” Hermione said, “except for Luna, she’s in fifth.”
“What houses are you in?” I asked.
“We’re in Gryffindor,” Ron replied.
“Except me,” Luna said. “I’m in Ravenclaw.”
I nodded. “I hope I get Gryffindor. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn’t be bad, though.”
“Just hope you don’t get into Slytherin,” Neville said with a shudder. “Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters were in there.”
I gulped. I definitely did *not* want to be put into a house that housed the people who’d murdered my mother.
The rest of the train ride went by quickly. Hermione kept firing questions at me about Beauxbatons, which was annoying, but I answered her anyway. My stomach was fluttering with nerves. What if I didn’t get into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw? What if I got sorted into Slytherin?