A week after I received the letter informing me of my parent’s sudden death, I was ready to leave. Selena, Ivan and a handful of other friends had gathered at the gates to bid me fair- well, although I had told them that it was only for a few days and that they didn’t have to come. I hugged them each in turn. When it was Ivan’s turn, he asked “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”. He said it with a note of worry in his voice, as if disaster could strike at any moment. “I’ve said this once and I will say it again: I must face my family alone, even if it is the last thing I want to do,” I replied.
“Alright, if you’re sure,” he said.
“I’m sure,” I assured him.
We hugged and I turned to my friends. “Well, bye for now,” I said. “I’ll miss you all very much.” Then, with those words, I turned and swung the gates open before walking out into the darkness. After my departure, I headed straight to Hogsmead station. I knew that the Hogwarts Express usually travelled there from station nine and three quarters, but I also knew that there were plenty of other trains that went in and out of the station. Maybe one of them led to my town. I scanned the signs, trying to find out where each train was going, but to no avail. “How am I going to get out of here?” I mumbled to myself. “I mean, I don’t even know which train to take.” Just then, I noticed a stack of papers sitting in the empty ticket booth. I stretched out my hand to snatch the papers, but pulled it back again. I couldn’t just take them. That would be stealing. No, it wouldn’t be, said a voice in my head. You’re only borrowing them, not stealing. Besides, you need these papers to get back home. I stopped to think, then grabbed the papers and skimmed through them. Sure enough, there was a train that lead to the station right outside my town that should arrive in five minutes. I quickly re-positioned the papers so there was no evidence of me being there, before plonking myself down on a bench and waiting. Soon, a small, emerald green steam train pulled into the platform. It had peeling paint and cracked windows. Steam billowed up from the smokestack. I slid the door to one of the compartments open and sat down on the seat. Inside the train was no better than outside. The walls were covered with scratches and stains, plus it stank as if a skunk had died in the room. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and tried to block out the horridness of it all. Suddenly, I lurched forward in my seat. The train must have started moving, I thought. I looked out the window at the beautiful countryside and thought This is it. I’m going back. I’m going home.
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