Chapter Text
The train platform was a chaotic array of cloaks and luggage, of shouting mothers and gleeful children. Owls swooped and dived as a clanging bell rang violently reminding those present of the trains looming departure. Minerva clung tighter to her battered trunk as she hurried through the bustling crowd of well-wishers. All around her parents hugged their children with a desperate ferocity, wiping the tears from their faces, as their child was enveloped by the swarming crowd of students.
Eleven-year-old Minerva was alone. She had said goodbye to her parents the previous day. Both being busy with work, were unable to journey down from Scotland to Kings Cross to wave her goodbye. Her father, always too devoted with his duties as a muggle priest, and her mother, constantly preoccupied with containing the chaos usually created by her younger brothers.
Being the oldest sibling meant that despite her age, Minerva was used to the independence that was forced upon her. The barman at the Leaky Cauldron, who was luckily a close friend of her mothers, had ensured her safety once she had arrived in London and provided her with accommodation. However, the eight-hour train ride by herself had been one of nervousness and discomfort.
Usually, Minerva enjoyed time alone, loving being free to enjoy the quiet yet pleasant company of her own mind. However, unfamiliar environments always caused an unsettling prickling down her spine that meant she could never fully relax. Unsurprisingly, the heightened pressure of navigating the muggle world hadn't done anything to calm her already jittery nerves.
Despite having travelled down from the highlands only the day before, Minerva sighed as she queued to board the Hogwarts express for the first time in her life, sentencing herself to not only another seven hours of travel back to the country from whence she came, but to seven years of boarding school with unknown people in an alien environment.
She boarded the elegant red and black steam train, nearly tripping in process, as two boys pushed roughly past her into the carriage. Cowing to the side, she glared furiously at the backs of their necks, too frightened by their obvious age difference to say anything.
Undaunted, she moved past them, grumbling something to herself about the obnoxious tendencies of men. Moving hastily, Minerva began her search for a place of quiet and seclusion. Much to her delight she found an empty compartment in no time at all.
In a motion that lacked any form of grace or femineity she collapsed onto the cushioned bench and perched directly next to the window. Not bothering to put her sizeable trunk on the luggage rack or smooth out her tartan pinafore, she pushed her reading glasses further up the bridge of her nose and peered at the quickly emptying platform.
It was happening. No longer would it be left to her imagination; she was finally starting on a journey she had dreaded ever since she could remember. Uncertainty squirmed under her skin.
Minerva had never wanted to leave the Scottish Highlands of Caithness which was a place of idyllic beauty. Being raised a witch in a tiny town full of muggles meant that in order to maintain secrecy, both mother and daughter, were forced to alienate themselves from their neighbours. Her mother Isobel, a social butterfly, greatly resented this, however Minerva cherished her time alone among nature. The area surrounding their house was almost completely undisturbed by human hands. Whenever she found herself in an unfamiliar situation, she would always allow her mind to wander back to her times losing herself in this wilderness; it was a place of soothing comfort.
She remembered running through a field, skirt hiked above her knees, a smile plastered across her normally neutral face. The long, sweet-scented grass grew through a blanket of moss and heather. It was late Autumn, so bouquets of delicate purple flowers sprung next to deep greens from damp earth. In the distance Minerva spied the glistening oasis of the roaring ocean, further along the horizon was a golden orb, surrounded by a mirage of orange and yellow hues that flowed up over her head and bled into the sky above, smothering ethereal clouds.
That day had been particularly memorable as not long after she had been joined by the one person she regarded as a friend. Dougal. A farm boy who, like her, was a child of few words. They had laid side by side in content silence upon a bed of grass and gazed intently upwards at the heavens for hours as they watched the light slowly be overcome by the intense purple of the night.
Images of her not soon to be forgotten source of relief filled her head as the train began its journey. Although technically she was travelling closer to what she longed for, in reality, she couldn’t be further from both her home and the comforts of familiarity.