Platform 9¾

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9 3/4  Solo   Finished 

London, England
August 31

9 3/4... that was what the ticket had said. 

Mother told her that one of the easiest ways she could identify a muggle-born or a half-blood was by the befuddled expression on their face when they searched for the train. She could spot a few, a boy and a pair of girls standing there restlessly between tracks nine and ten looking at each-other and then around themselves with amazement as travelers about them seemed to disappear.

She found this humorous. She had a cruel streak since her youngest days. The years had failed to cultivate this fact but her parents efforts also did little to dull her ambitions, aspirations or anger. She had heard her mother comment when she thought that Erin could not hear that she felt that her daughter was born angry. She never realized how closely her daughter took after her. That despite her prim and proper facade she faced the world with that she was no better. The only difference between the two of them was that one of them had learned how to act. How to hide. That did not make her good but it made her feel like she was better perhaps. Thing was she needed someone that she could point towards and say she is a bad person. Someone to say that she was better than. Erin was a necessary evil, if she was not wrong something or someone else would have to be, or dare one say it everyone else would have to look in the mirror and face their personal demons.

Her suitcase was mostly empty, she was told to avoid bringing personal affects. No beloved childhood stuffed animals. No precious bit of jewelry. No favored dress. She was to get everything she needed from Diagon Alley, which she did. Her suitcase was heavy but only because of the cauldron she had packed. There was something humbling about leaving everything precious you had behind, not that she had a great many ties. She was a lonesome child. Her parents were simply protective or so they claimed but she knew the truth, they saw something in her. Something that was buried deep within themselves that they desperately wanted to fix and hated in her. That was sometimes the problem with children, you see sometimes a bit too much of yourself in them. 

It was almost eleven. Time to go.

She would run for the pillar...

In the blink of an eye she was train side. The Hogwarts Express. Next stop, Hogwarts.

Just a trick of the lighting they said...