Hey Stranger, I Want You to Catch Me Like a Cold

I sighed as I bid my goofy parents goodbye and boarded the Hogwarts express, struggling with my trunk behind me. Not only was I starting a new school in England, land of the Weird, but it was called Hogwarts. Um, whatnow? There was also the added plus of transferring into my 6th year, (hello? grades?), when none have done it before. Oh, and I'm American. Very obviously not British.

Can we get a Sore Thumb applause from the audience?

I continued struggling with my trunk down the train hallway. I could already feel the stares and whispers. Funny, nobody thought to help.

"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath.

I turned around to pull my trunk with both hands. Shortly after doing this however, I ran into someone, and fell backwards past them and onto the ground. The trunk landed on my foot.

"Ahh, sorry," I moaned, glancing up at my victim.

It was a medium sized gentleman, with round glasses and a concerned expression.

"Oh no, it was my fault as well. Let me help you up," and offered me his hand. "Are you alright?"

"Oh," I said with a breezy voice, after he pulled me up "Peachy. Just a possible sprained ankle, I can barely understand a word anybody's saying, slight concussion and I'm in the middle of godamn England!" My voice got considerably higher as I continued to rant.

I probably shouldn't have been getting all hysterical on this stranger, but I had no one else to turn to. The boy looked slightly taken aback. The girls in his life probably weren't this dramatic. But then again, they weren't Silvany L. N. Davenport, like this one.

"Err, would you like me to help you with your trunk?" he asked tenatively.

I sighed, and looked up at him through my bangs. "That's the best idea I've heard all day. Lead the way bro."

He gave me a strange look but picked up my trunk and lead me into his compartment. As soon as I stepped in, I was immeadiately appraised by four pairs of eyes.

"Hey," I greeted, in a slightly better mood. They just looked at me.

"Ello, Govenah!" I tried again.

More looks.

"Didn't your mothers ever tell you that it is rude to stare?" The bad mood came back. So far, I was not seeing any of this place's redeeming qualities.

Sure, I stood out a little. My hair was long, and curled, unlike anybody's I had seen today. And I was wearing my normal clothes. Which did differ to their dreary weird ones. Was that any reason to stare? I think not.

The guy who helped me brushed past me and addressed the people.

"Er, guys this is..." he looked at me.

"Silvie."

"Silvie."

Wow, he said my name pretty.

"We uh, bumped into each other in the corridor. She's new here?" He said, then turned it into a question.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Anyway," the guy said, lifting up my trunk and putting it above my head, "she seemed lost. So I invited her to sit with us." Then he addressed me. "I'm Harry..."

He seemed like he was going to add something but decided not to.

I smiled at him. "Cool."

Of course, I already knew who he was. Harry Potter. The Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived. He's a big thing here in England, having supposedly defeated the evil tyrant Voldemort when he was just a baby. The story went the Voldy went looking for the family, killed his parents, but it backfired when he went for Harry. So, all in all, he's a celebrity. Especially since Voldemort's back in the open.

"These are my friends," he introduced, "Neville, Luna, Ron, and Hermione."

"British people have weird names," I observed.

They looked at me strangely again.

The one he called Hermione seemed to shake out of the odd trance the quickest. She had bushy hair and a somewhat bossy demeanor, but gave me a friendly smile and said, "So, you're American?"

I smiled and nodded, then decided to sit down beside her.

"How old are you?" She questioned.

"Sixteen."

She looked like she was going to ask me a question, so I cut in.

"Yes, yes, I know, never had a transfer student before, let alone someone from out of the country, blah blah blah."

The guy they called Ron, who had flaming red hair and freckles, grinned. "You're funny."

I grinned also. "So's your hair. Can I touch it? Please? It's gorgey." I was getting excited.

He just looked entertained. "Have at it."

I ruffled it. "I bet I've got super powers now or something," I giggled.

"I like her," said the dreamy voice of Luna, a sandy blonde, far-out looking girl.

"Cool," I replied, then turned to the one called Neville, who had dark hair and the appearance of one who matured in a very quick amount of time.

"Hi there Neville. I like your name. Let's be friends."

He turned a little red but managed to smile and stutter, "Alright, yeah."

I grinned. My mood was quickly improving.

Then we heard a knock on the compartment door.

"Anything from the trolley?"

Ron, Harry, and Neville jumped up quickly.

"Crack Trolley?" I guessed, asking Hermione.

"No, Silvie," she chucked. "Candy."

As much as I loved candy, I wanted real food. When I asked Harry why they didn't sell that, he had to answer for me.

Weird.

Anyway Harry came back with like everything, so I got to try British candy. To be honest, it wasn't that good.

"Ahh, what I wouldn't do for a Reese's right now. Wait!" I dove into my bag. "Aha!" I had a whole bag of mini Reeses, individually wrapped. "Now this is candy crack."

They all looked at me curiously. So I gave them each one. They all agreed, and soon, alas, my bag was empty.

We spent most of the next two hours talking, and they told me about Hogwarts, and the Houses. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Gryffindor, which was the school House for the brave. I could already tell that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were an inseparable trio. Personally, I wanted to get into Gryffindor. Cliche, I know, but I couldn't help it. After a while, Hermione noted that it was soon time to be getting our uniforms on, so Luna and I followed her out. I was rather disgusted when I got back into the compartment.

"I hate wearing skirts. I hate wearing skirts." I scooted close to Ron and whispered in his ear. "Hey, Ron. Guess what. I HATE WEARING SKIRTS!"

He jumped.

"Hey, Harry," Nevile chucked. "I think she hates wearing skirts."

"Damn straight!"

And the train slowed down and came to a stop. Time to face my DESTINY.
Duh, duh, duuhhh.
Hehe.