Of course he found himself in the section of the train where Cela and Daphne were, in their girly pinkness and their gleeful hugging and jumping and squealing. Of course.

Not that it was a bad thing, it's just that the last time he saw them had been at that big fancy, overly posh do over the summer. They had been the guests of honour and he had been the help. MEH.

Inferiority complex, much?

"Oy," he called, attempting a smile as he dragged his trunk (uncaring if he smashed a small firstie on the way or crushed someone's foot) over to where they stood clutching at each other as if they'd topple over if they didn't, "We gonna find a compartment or not?"

And of course, they were going to sit together.