Violet had decided not to let anything that happened at Hogwarts bother her any longer. Not the fact that unbelievably awful things had happened due to a staff member and no real explanation had been given, or that (she'd heard rumored) Professor Schmoe wasn't coming back next year, or that she had once again failed to make any headway with becoming a more sociable being (mostly due to the awful things going on, again).

But no, she wasn't going to let that bother her, or think about the long conversation her grandfather (who undoubtedly had found about all these things) would want to have with her in his study as soon as she got home. Right now she was (finally) headache free, clear-headed, and well-fed, and she was going to sit right down in the rowdy back cars, pull out her journal, and enjoy the train ride back as she wrote her final account of her fourth year at school.

Pushing the car door open, she saw Ashley sitting there, writing on the back of what looked like a drawing. That was okay--Ashley was okay. Violet used to think she was overly suspicious and pessimistic, but it was Violet who'd been wrong, because the world was apparently as sinister as Ashley seemed to think it was.

"Hi, Ash," Violet said as she stowed her carpetbag under the seat and arranged her journal and pencil on her lap. She wasn't sure they were on close enough terms to use the girl's nickname, but Violet was feeling bold today.