She wished . . . well, it didn't really matter what she wished, did it? It wasn't going to change the fact that she wasn't a part of the cheery, homey scene. There was no one there to see her off to school and wish her well.
A shudder of warmth spread up her chest from her belly. She stiffened and her eyes darted about. That was—! Heri's eyes landed a figure standing discreetly off to the side at the far-side of the train. Youthful, dark-haired, glacial expression: it was her guardian apparition!
The two of them took in the sight of each other impassively. When Heri thought the being would do nothing more than watch, as usual, the being lifted a hand and tilted her head in a formal sign of greeting. Heri couldn't restrain the smile that lifted her lips. She lifted her hand as well and waved happily. At the show of her good-cheer, Hedwig hopped down to Heri's shoulder and nuzzled her, making her feel even better. She supposed she wasn't so alone after all.
Heri hopped onto the train as soon as the whistle blew for the last call. Her luggage was in her space-expanded satchel so she immediately set off to find a compartment. Most of them already had people in them, many of the people looking like the sort that she doubted she'd get on with. Too crowded, too noisy, too obnoxious looking . . . What did she have to do to find laid-back people that wouldn't expect her to interact with them, or better yet, an empty compartment?
Heri was considering somehow getting on the roof and spending the rest of the trip up there where she caught a glimpse of an uncrowded compartment with even-keel looking older students talking within. This was the first promising compartment she found since she got on the train. Maybe they'd be willing to put up with a first-year not looking to be a bother? One way to tell.
Heri patted Hedwig on the head and slid the door open.
Marcus Flint was a well-known, intimidating presence among the students of Hogwarts. He had arrived as tall as many of the third-year boys and had continued to grow at an alarming rate, reaching 6 feet 4 inches at fifteen, and promising to grow larger still. Unlike the lanky Weasley boys, Marcus filled out his height with muscle as well, and he used his bulk to great effectiveness while massacring the opposition on the Quidditch pitch as well as parting the crowds of herbivores like they were the Red Sea. With his buddies, Graham Montague and Lucian Bole — both intimidating as well — they were the current terrors of Slytherin House.
Marcus wasn't what anyone would call handsome. He wasn't ugly if evaluated fairly, but his teeth put one in the mind of a flesh-eating monster, his eyes were cold and narrow, and his face just naturally settled into provoking leer. He had all the charms of a muzzled attack-dog and he was perfectly fine with it. Graham was just as frightening even though Lucian actually had a few girls hooked on his stupid 'bad-boy' routine.
It was all this against him that had him surprised by the door of his usual compartment opening. Marcus and his friends had all but pissed on the door when they claimed this particular compartment back in his first year, scaring off anyone stupid enough to try to do something about it. Since then, rare was the person that voluntarily came around, usually ignorant first-years that didn't know to keep away. How odd, a quick glimpse of their snarly faces usually made quick work of the uninitiated.
It indeed appeared to be a first-year, a girl, and possibly muggleborn from the way she was dressed, a denim dress that ended above her knees and one of those sissy cardigan things. She looked like she was half dandelion or maybe sheep with how ridiculously fluffy her messy hair was. She was a titchy thing, all skinny limbs and big eyes, she looked like she wouldn't even come up to his collarbone. She kind of reminded Marcus of baby deer.
Marcus was struck with the urge to get to his feet, and he tensed at the odd impulse. He had never felt the need to stand at attention for anyone before and he certainly wasn't going to start doing so for a slip of a girl four years his junior no matter what his instincts told him. If Marcus' friends felt the same compulsion, they ignored it as well, aggressive sneers on their faces.
The girl took one tentative step in before she stopped flat and just stared at them, little mouth forming an 'o.' Her face was surprisingly solemn despite her wide-eyed look.
Graham grunted, "The hell do you want?"
Graham somehow managed to be even less charming that Marcus. He was as burly as a bear with thick arms the size of ham legs. When he hit his growth spurt the year before, he had gone from stocky to outright bulky.
The girl didn't answer though her eyes did somehow manage to grow ever larger.
"Didn't you hear him, runt?" said Lucian, crossing his arms and giving the girl a flat look. "What the fuck do you want?"
The girl seemed to not hear the sandy-haired boy at all, her eyes zeroing in on Marcus and not looking away. She hadn't even blinked once since she got here! Weird.
Lucian ruffled. He hated being ignored. Menace entered his tone.
"I said—"
"— sit here?"
Marcus frowned harder.
"What?"
The girl had just said something but it wasn't much louder than a breath.
"Sit here," the girl repeated. Her cheeks pinkened though her unblinking gaze didn't waver. "Can I?"
The three boys looked at each other. No one else had ever asked to stay after it had been made so abundantly clear that extras were not welcomed. Hell, no ignorant firstie had even wanted to come any closer after they got a proper look at them.
"Get lost, kid," sneered Marcus, leaning back against the seat. "Bugger off somewhere else before we make you regret it."
"'s crowded," she said, not looking bothered at Marcus' words. "An' loud. Please, can I sit? I won't make trouble."
Well, she certainly had a gift for brevity. He'd never met a less chatty girl in his life.