he red headed girl sat quietly in the dim-lit carriage, her delicate nose stuck in a leather-bound book. Her nebulous grey eyes skimmed the pages in boredom, her skinny fingers scarred with paper cuts and stained with ink. She turned to the next page, sighing. Her gaze traveled to the dusty window beside her, the sunlight warming up her freckled face. She closed her eyes in content, wondering where on earth the sun had been moments before. The girl looked down, closing the book and stuffing it deep into the blue and white bag beside her. Her small hand reached up and unclasped the lock, pushing the window open. It creaked in protest, but soon enough obliged. The warm summer’s wind rushed into the car, filling it up with the sweet smell of grass and morning dew. Her expression changed into one of wonder as she looked up ahead. A dark grey owl flew into the cabin, landing gently on the sill. It hooted, nipping at her waiting fingers. She hissed, pulling her hand back, before smiling. The large bird sat in content as the red haired girl glided her fingers through his soft feathers, his beak chattering in delight. She laughed, her voice echoing through the cart. The curtains rustled against the wind as the train began to pick up speed, and soon it felt as if a tornado had appeared in the cart with them.
The owl dipped it’s head, flying off in the direction of the school. The girl’s melancholy core seeped out and soon the world was dull once more. She closed the window and latched it shut, pulling the curtains closed around the blazing sun. Her body slumped back down onto the overstuffed leather seat, her school skirt riding up slightly. She pulled it down and smoothed it out, reaching over to grab her book once more. The cabin door opened slightly as she did so, and a milky white hand pulled it open all the way. A boy with pale blonde hair and a guarded expression slipped in, his gaze latching onto her. She looked down towards her bag, pulling out what seemed to be a broken quill, spilled ink seeping through the fabric. He smiled slightly, waving his wand just so. “There, all fixed. Say, what’s your name?” She looked up at him, her eyes staring deep into his soul. “Amelia. I’m going into my second year. You are?” He sat down across from her, his smile growing wider. “Your Snape’s goddaughter?” He asked, ignoring her request for his name. She frowned slightly, before a fond smile began to grow. “Yes, I am. I don’t remember my parents very well, you see. They were murdered when I was a mere few months old. I do have an older brother, though I never met him. He’s in his third year, which I assume you are in?” The boy nodded, his own grey eyes traveling over to the closed curtains. “Why is it so dark in here?” She shrugged. “I like it when it’s dark.” He suddenly burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. She soon joined in, realizing how weird that sounded. “My name’s Draco. To asnwer your question from earlier.” Her lips pursed together. “Draco Malfoy?” He nodded in confirmation, a hand gliding up to his slicked back hair. “What house do yiu think you’ll be in? I presume this is your first year?” She thought for a moment, before answering. “Slytherin,” she proclaimed, “Just like my uncle. I will be taking third year classes though, because I started learning at a young age.” Draco smirked, opening his mouth. But before he could utter even a word the train lurched forward. “I guess we’re here then.” Stated Amelia, standing up. Draco grabbed her bags, “I’ll carry these for you.” She smiled shyly at him, looping her arm through his. “Then I’ll carry yours.”
The red haired girl’s dull eyes flickered around the room as she was lead into a great dining hall. Her uncle had told her about the never ending ceiling, supposedly created with magic. The girl stood out intermixed between the first years, as she was signifigantly taller than the majority. Her brother’s raven head caught her eye as Roberts, Annelise was sorted into Hufflepuff. “Attention Hogwarts students. We have a new attendee, whom will be entering her third year. Potter, Amelia.” Harry’s eyes widened when he heard her name. “It could be a common name where she is from.” Hermione whispered. He believed her every word.
“Ah, another Potter you say? Yet Gryffindor doesn’t seem like the right house for you.” The girl sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “Just pick one already!” She mumbled. “I know the perfect house for you then…..”