The rhythmic clatter of the Hogwarts Express rolling along the tracks filled the narrow corridor as Alaric Ashcombe trailed his hand along the cool metal wall, his steps slow and deliberate. His light blonde hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing it back—his free hand was already clutching the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

He peeked into one compartment after another, his gray eyes scanning for a miracle: an empty car, a space to think. Each time, his stomach twisted tighter at the sight of other students, chatting and laughing like they’d known each other for years. How did they all look so confident?

"Too full" he muttered under his breath after passing yet another compartment. His heart raced as if he’d just dodged a Bludger, though all he’d done was avoid eye contact.

Reaching the back cars, the crowd thinned, and the noise dulled into a faint hum. A flicker of hope stirred in him, though his nerves still buzzed like a swarm of restless doxies. Finally, he stopped outside a compartment with no occupants. His hand hesitated on the door handle, and for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting someone to swoop in and claim it before he did.

"No one’s going to bother you" he whispered to himself, though the words didn’t do much to calm the anxious knot in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he slid the door open and stepped inside, setting his bag down carefully as if the wrong move might shatter the fragile quiet.

The seat by the window called to him. He sank into it, letting his head rest against the cool glass as the countryside blurred past. One deep breath, then another. The nerves hadn’t left, but at least now he had space to think—to prepare for what awaited him at Hogwarts.