1 Mar 2025, 15:33
Floral Express
Lily stares at the Hogwarts Express in all its crimson red glory as it towers above her small, eleven-year old form. Plumes of smoke waft from its smokestacks, and the occasional whistle - a warning to the students that time is almost up - is only muffled by the sound of parents fussing over their children and other young children crying and refusing to let go of their moms.
Lily feels much the same, but she doesn't cry. She knows there's no shame in crying, though. Mom and dad always told her that crying is a healthy way to let her feelings out when they start to hurt, so she isn't ashamed, but still she doesn't cry. Maybe it's because she knows this has to happen. She has to go to school, and learning to do magic herself instead of relying on her mom's skills instills just enough excitement to cancel out all that fear and sadness of missing her parents.
"Now, now," her crying mom gently chides her, adjusting the collar of Lily's casual cloak she sewed over the summer. "Every flower needs water, love, and sunlight to grow, my little bloom. But a bit of fertilizer never hurts when you want your flower to be healthy and strong. Hogwarts is that fertilizer for you."
Lily's dad snorts, a laugh bursting from his chest that he's obviously using to cover up his own urge to cry.
"Don't be telling her her school's shite so soon, love," he says to Lily's mom, who swats him on the arm. She clearly didn't appreciate his joke.
"Don't worry about me," Lily says, stepping back and lifting her school supplies a little off the ground. They're heavy. Too heavy. "I'm more worried about how you two will manage without me." Lily smirks at her parents, who pull her into a watery, teary-eyed family hug.
When she finally settles into the Hogwarts Express, she's amazed by the buzz of activity. Older students perform magic, which she takes the opportunity to watch as she passes. Some simple spells, of course, but she could swear she saw a teacup stuck on someone's nose, and a hat changing colors like a mood ring, but perhaps it's all her imagination.
Lily finally finds a small compartment with empty seats, but it isn't to her liking. She looks around for a few minutes before reaching into the inner pockets of her cloak. With flourishing hands, she spreads daisy petals all over the floor and seats of the compartment, bringing a little bit of home with her.
When the compartment is sufficiently floral, she sits down, wrapping the tail of her cloak around her front and on her lap as she sits.
"Next stop, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she states to herself, watching other students through the window as she waits for the train to leave.
Lily feels much the same, but she doesn't cry. She knows there's no shame in crying, though. Mom and dad always told her that crying is a healthy way to let her feelings out when they start to hurt, so she isn't ashamed, but still she doesn't cry. Maybe it's because she knows this has to happen. She has to go to school, and learning to do magic herself instead of relying on her mom's skills instills just enough excitement to cancel out all that fear and sadness of missing her parents.
"Now, now," her crying mom gently chides her, adjusting the collar of Lily's casual cloak she sewed over the summer. "Every flower needs water, love, and sunlight to grow, my little bloom. But a bit of fertilizer never hurts when you want your flower to be healthy and strong. Hogwarts is that fertilizer for you."
Lily's dad snorts, a laugh bursting from his chest that he's obviously using to cover up his own urge to cry.
"Don't be telling her her school's shite so soon, love," he says to Lily's mom, who swats him on the arm. She clearly didn't appreciate his joke.
"Don't worry about me," Lily says, stepping back and lifting her school supplies a little off the ground. They're heavy. Too heavy. "I'm more worried about how you two will manage without me." Lily smirks at her parents, who pull her into a watery, teary-eyed family hug.
When she finally settles into the Hogwarts Express, she's amazed by the buzz of activity. Older students perform magic, which she takes the opportunity to watch as she passes. Some simple spells, of course, but she could swear she saw a teacup stuck on someone's nose, and a hat changing colors like a mood ring, but perhaps it's all her imagination.
Lily finally finds a small compartment with empty seats, but it isn't to her liking. She looks around for a few minutes before reaching into the inner pockets of her cloak. With flourishing hands, she spreads daisy petals all over the floor and seats of the compartment, bringing a little bit of home with her.
When the compartment is sufficiently floral, she sits down, wrapping the tail of her cloak around her front and on her lap as she sits.
"Next stop, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she states to herself, watching other students through the window as she waits for the train to leave.
23 Apr 2025, 14:44
Floral Express
Claire nervously navigated her way onto the train, stopping at the first window that overlooked the platform. Her eyes scanned the crowd in search of the only comfort she had. When she finally locked eyes with her mum, she felt her eyes prickle with the onslaught of tears. She sniffled and hurriedly blinked them away, raising her hand in a final wave to her parents. They both gave her hopeful, encouraging smiles, but she couldn’t stop the ball of anxiety weaving its way through her chest.
She huffed at herself and her childishness. Come on, Claire. This is where you're supposed to be, she thought, quietly chiding her own apprehension. Resolute, she clutched her schoolbooks tighter to her chest and gripped the handle of her heavy trunk with both hands. She was nearly dragging it down the corridor and wished she already knew a spell to make it lighter. Did such a thing exist? Her mind buzzed with the possibilities magic could bring.
Her frustration began to build as she passed compartment after compartment, all of them full. How was she supposed to find a seat if there were none left?
Then suddenly, a soft floral scent curled into her nose, and she was unconsciously drawn to it. She turned to her right and spotted a beautiful, tall girl who looked to be around her age. Claire’s curiosity was instantly piqued as she noticed petals scattered gently throughout the compartment. Her original plan had been to find a quiet corner to reread her textbooks, but she couldn’t help being intrigued by the girl’s fiery red hair and the gentle atmosphere surrounding her.
Too nervous to simply walk in, Claire rested her trunk on the floor and raised her fist to the window, giving it a light knock. She wasn’t usually the type to go out of her way to make friends—but if she was going to be tucked into her books, she certainly wouldn’t mind doing so surrounded by petals and perfume.
She huffed at herself and her childishness. Come on, Claire. This is where you're supposed to be, she thought, quietly chiding her own apprehension. Resolute, she clutched her schoolbooks tighter to her chest and gripped the handle of her heavy trunk with both hands. She was nearly dragging it down the corridor and wished she already knew a spell to make it lighter. Did such a thing exist? Her mind buzzed with the possibilities magic could bring.
Her frustration began to build as she passed compartment after compartment, all of them full. How was she supposed to find a seat if there were none left?
Then suddenly, a soft floral scent curled into her nose, and she was unconsciously drawn to it. She turned to her right and spotted a beautiful, tall girl who looked to be around her age. Claire’s curiosity was instantly piqued as she noticed petals scattered gently throughout the compartment. Her original plan had been to find a quiet corner to reread her textbooks, but she couldn’t help being intrigued by the girl’s fiery red hair and the gentle atmosphere surrounding her.
Too nervous to simply walk in, Claire rested her trunk on the floor and raised her fist to the window, giving it a light knock. She wasn’t usually the type to go out of her way to make friends—but if she was going to be tucked into her books, she certainly wouldn’t mind doing so surrounded by petals and perfume.