Watching people trying to cram things into their trunks, or sitting on them trying to close the lid was something Dalton was sure he would never understand. Squinting slightly in the sunlight, the sixteen year old was one of the first to drag his trunk to the Entrance Hall, one of the first to get on a coach, and therefore one of the first to jump on to the train.

Sliding the compartment door closed behind him, Dalt slung his bag over his head and slumped into the seat next to the window. The minimal British sunlight had him in a better mood than usual, allowing his thoughts to stray to his summer plans. Thinking of Charlotte's smile when he'd agreed to go away with her was almost enough to squash any doubts he had, and he made a mental note to find the Gryffindor when the train was a little more settled.