Upon boarding the train, Dominica began making her way through the narrow corridors of its interior. They were dimly lit, with lamps that seemed to have drained batteries from years of neglect. Most of the soft illumination in the corridors came from the windows facing the platform outside. The air reeked of age and use, as if the train had never had a day of rest in its entire existence. It was clear the train had been driven every day, and so every person who had ever boarded it had left a scent, their energy, a trace of themselves here.

She pushed her way past other students searching for compartments, perhaps looking for their friends. She walked along the hallways and, after some searching, found an empty compartment at the very back of the train. It was obvious why no one had occupied it yet; it reeked of oldness even more than the corridors themselves. Its wallpaper was torn and dirty, and the seat’s dark red fabric had clearly not been changed in a long time. But she did not mind; after all, it was better to spend some time alone, in peace and quiet, before the evening that loomed ahead. She knew it was going to be a long ride, so she wanted to get comfortable without any disturbance.

She walked into the compartment and closed the door. She hoped the other students had already discovered the aged atmosphere in this particular compartment and would not bother her with their lost, confused stares. Walking through the train, she saw many wide-eyed first years; some had clearly been clueless Muggles, and she passed them without acknowledgment. They seemed so out of their element that she could not help but wonder why they had even come. Could you not have avoided Hogwarts for the sake of others, she thought. Furthermore, she did not want them anywhere near her compartment.

She dragged her heavy trunk in with her. After struggling unsuccessfully to lift it onto the upper shelves for baggage, she finally gave up; there was no way she could get this several-pound trunk, full of heavy books and clothes, onto the shelves. So she simply placed it on one side of the seats – at least there would be a reason nobody else could sit in her compartment. With grace, she took off her coat and neatly hung it on a hook installed in the wall opposite the window, next to the door. The compartment was warm, and she immediately wanted to adjust.

She dropped into the seat closest to the window. Outside, she saw even more people; the clock was edging closer to eleven o’clock, so she guessed they had arrived just in time for the train. The light from outside made her dizzy. It was not direct sunlight as it had been earlier in the day. From walking to the manor to the car, and from the car through the station to the Hogwarts Express, sunlight had followed her everywhere. Her head hurt, and in a hurry she closed her compartment’s curtain and leaned back in her seat. She decided not to open the curtains, to avoid giving herself a headache or even a sunburn, as well as to avoid looking at the overwhelming number of people pouring out of the brick wall she had come through minutes earlier.

Before the girl could comprehend it, she was fast asleep, her head resting against the fabric of the curtains that covered the window, her mouth agape, breathing calmly. With a sudden jolt, she was awakened. She sat up, her eyes still puffy from the short nap, and made a slight gap between the curtains and the window, staring outside. The train was moving. They seemed to have already left the city of London, as fields tended by farmers and only the occasional small cottage passed by in the view behind the glass. She closed the curtains once again, leaving the compartment in darkness except for the very old lamp that shone dimly beside the door.

She looked down at her wristwatch, which was gilded with pure gold, and whose strap was made of real Lethifold leather. It showed two o’clock, which meant she had been sleeping for just a little over three hours, which was not bad at all, and she was quite pleased at the opportunity to make up for the lack of sleep she had had that night. There were still about six hours left sitting on the train, anxiously awaiting the Sorting Ceremony and wondering about the things that might happen at it.

Suddenly, as she sat in silence, in the dark, considering whether to pick up a book to read during the journey, a knock came at the door and pulled her out of the depths of her thoughts. She prepared for the worst: a lost student needing help finding their way back to their compartment, or even worse, a first-year student wanting to make friends. She did not have the energy to bear such a burden at the time. The coupe door opened, and in the corridor that led to Dominica stood an old, wrinkled lady with a trolley cart. Dominica exhaled and relaxed slightly. Merlin himself seemed to shine down on her and shooed every student away.

She quickly rummaged through her satchel while the trolley lady spoke her infamous first words, took out a handful of sickles, and asked for two pumpkin pastries, a chocolate bar (having realised she had forgotten the one she had prepared for today at home), and a classic – a chocolate frog. The lady kindly handed her the order and took the equivalent amount of money. With a goodbye, she closed Dominica’s coupe, concealing the girl from the world once again.

Dominica had started getting hungry, since the fullness of the breakfast had started to wear off, so she did not waste time and dug into the pastries first. She had never been a huge fan of pumpkin, but the other sweets on the trolley that did not contain chocolate did not interest her either. She hoped to make up for this with a plate of chocolate pudding at the opening ceremony and prayed they would serve it. After opening the chocolate frog and biting its head off before it could escape, looking through the cards, and saving the chocolate bar for later, she took out her book from the satchel and drowned in its story.

After hours of reading, idle sitting, a few more brief naps, and thankfully no further interruptions, the watch on her wrist showed seven o’clock, so she decided to change into her first-year uniform. After another hour, the train finally stopped with a loud whistle. Throughout the train echoed the sounds of children scrambling to their feet and rushing for the doors, eager to be the first to get off. Dominica took her time gathering her belongings, neatly folding her morning clothes and packing them into her trunk. As the largest waves of students poured out, Dominica left as well. Her eyes darted around Hogsmeade station, now crowded with students of all ages and backgrounds. Her gaze landed on a group of first years, whom she recognised by the lack of colours on their uniforms, just like hers, and she headed over to the circle in which they were standing.