September 1st. 2022.
@Sarah Night

"Can you tell him I'm very mad?" asked Edmund Dempsie, holding onto his trunk, standing in the middle of the platform.

The boy was a bit taller than the last time he had been to King's Cross, but still the same loud and unstoppable kid who came up with silly ideas to have fun, like flying across Hogwarts' grounds with a school broom, or buying a fake permit so he could visit Hogsmeade on his first year. His bangs fell over his blue eyes, and he dressed in a long violet cloak, that his mother had bought him for his birthday last year.

Granny stared at him for a second, pressing her lips together in a thin line, as if she was thinking of what to tell him. She looked sad - and well, so did he. Theodore's absence wasn't something they could ignore. His father had a supposedly "important practice match" in Brazil early this morning, and he couldn't miss it - not even to say goodbye to his only son. And mother... well, Edmund wasn't counting on Eliza showing up anyway. It wasn't normal for a soon-to-be thirteen-year-old boy to accept being forgotten about by his own parents, but he had grown accustomed to it. Well, he thought he was, at least. Eliza missing important milestones in his life and sending short letters to compensate was one thing he could deal with, now, his father choosing to do so? It stung. A lot.

No wonder he was so angry today.

"I will talk to him," said Granny, running her hands over his hair, lips curling up in a tight smile. "Have a lot of fun and don't forget to write, alright?"

Edmund grumbled that he'd do his best to write - to Granny, and only Granny, as retaliation for his parent's absence. The boy dragged his trunk inside the Hogwarts Expression, looking around in hopes of finding an empty compartment. He wasn't in the mood for chit-chat, which was unusual to an obnoxiously talkative extrovert such as himself... but since he couldn't spot Olivia, Aurelia or Emma anywhere, he didn't care.

He opened the door to an empty compartment and tossed his trunk under the seat, carefully placing Sticker's cage next to him - the small ferret was asleep. He sat close to the window, arms crossed as he bitterly hoped his father had the worst practice match ever, or that it began raining.