*(authors note I am not a writer just someone someone taking their first step into actually creating a fanfiction I heavily used ChatGPT so if there's anything wrong or things, I should add inform me so that I can fix it up)*
Daniel Hayes had always been careful. Twenty-five years old, meticulous in every movement, every decision, yet here he was, crushed beneath the sudden collapse of a scaffolding, rain slicking the metal beneath his boots, his heart hammering as steel twisted and groaned above him. I should have stepped faster. I should have seen it coming. There was no time, only the flash of motion, the impossible weight, and then a silence that stretched forever, a darkness that swallowed him whole, leaving only the awareness of being stretched across threads of consciousness too fine to hold. And then warmth brushed against his cheek, soft and strange, and the sound of children's laughter replaced the echoes of his own screams. Steam hissed and curled around him, sweet and sharp in the nose, mingling with the faint tang of coal and damp stone. Small hands, delicate and unformed, flexed in front of him. I am not Daniel. I am someone else. Someone… small. He—or she—looked down and felt the robes, the small weight of a new body, every movement awkward and strange, yet instinctively complete. A polished trunk rested at her side, brass letters glinting: Evelyn Carmichael. The name settled over her like a cloak, strange and heavy, and she whispered it softly in her mind. I am Evelyn. I am here. I do not belong here. And yet, the platform was full of life, parents fussing over children, trolleys rattling, laughter and steam and motion swirling together. Small feet shuffled forward, following the tide of movement, robes brushing the damp cobblestones, wand resting heavy in one hand, smooth cherry wood that pulsed faintly beneath her fingers, core faintly warm as if alive, a tether to this life she had not yet claimed. I must hold it. Only this. I am Evelyn. I am alive. The Hogwarts Express loomed ahead, coal smoke curling like restless dragons, red carriages gleaming in lantern light, a whistle shrill and urgent cutting across the platform. Evelyn kept her eyes low, absorbing the clamor around her, listening to the distant shouts, the chatter of children, the squeal of the trolley wheels, letting the sights and sounds settle in her mind while her first memory of magic stirred faintly, like the edge of a dream brushing her fingertips. I am small. I am new. I am learning. And I am watching. Steam hissed from the train as she moved closer, the system flickering quietly at the edge of her perception, recording, noting, measuring, but saying nothing, a silent observer waiting for her first act. Evelyn paused at the compartment door, peering in briefly, noting the benches, the neatly stacked trunks, the smell of polish and parchment mingling with the faint sweetness of candy from trolleys moving past. Everything was unfamiliar, yet complete, and she knelt to open her trunk, robes, textbooks, potion bottles, cauldron, and then the wand resting across the top, smooth and polished, cherry wood with a faint pulse at the core, length just right for her small hands. She flexed her fingers carefully, testing the weight, imagining the first motions of a spell she had only just begun to understand. Lumos. Nox. Wingardium Leviosa. Words familiar from memory, strange in this body, whispered softly under her breath as a tiny flicker of light responded faintly to the wand's tip, gone almost before she could see it, one percent at most, but undeniably there. I can do this. I am beginning. And then a soft knock rattled the compartment door. "Is anyone in here?" a bright, nervous voice called. "Hi! I'm Susan Bones," the girl said, stepping inside, eyes wide, smile almost too bright. "You're new, aren't you? I've heard all about Hogwarts from my aunt, Amelia Bones! Do you know where your compartment is?" Evelyn froze, small fingers tightening on the wand. I am Evelyn. I am small. I do not know what to say. "I… I'm here," she whispered, barely audible. Susan clapped once, delighted, eyes sparkling. "Oh, good! I was worried I'd have no one to sit with. You have everything you need, right? Textbooks, robes, wand?" Evelyn nodded slightly, just enough to show assent, and Susan continued, chatter spilling over her like a river, explaining where to set up her trunk, how to arrange robes, the best way to handle potions, and Evelyn allowed herself to listen, letting the words wash over her, tiny flickers of light at the wand tip responding faintly to her attention, her heart thrumming in rhythm with the train, the magic, and the impossible knowledge that this life was hers to navigate. Outside the window, mist curled around the carriages, shadows stretching across the platform, the hiss of steam blending with the distant whistle, and Evelyn leaned back against the bench, small hands brushing over her robes, wand resting lightly across her palm, letting herself feel the faint thrill of being seen, of being alive, of being ready for what was to come. I am Evelyn Carmichael. I am here. I am learning. And I am beginning. Susan settled beside her on the bench, bouncing slightly as if her energy could fill the compartment and overflow into the rest of the train. "You must be tired from all that packing and getting here, huh?" she asked, glancing at Evelyn's small, still figure. Evelyn nodded, fingers tightening once more on her wand, feeling the faint warmth at its core. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am small. "I mean, it's my first time on the Hogwarts Express too, and I've heard so much, but nothing really prepares you for it," Susan continued, leaning forward, eyes bright with excitement. "Have you seen the other students yet? Oh, there's someone with a cat and a whole pile of books—so many! And—oh! Did you hear about the toad someone brought? I think it's Neville's." Evelyn glanced briefly toward the corridor, catching the tail end of a bushy-haired girl muttering about a missing toad, but she said nothing, letting the scene blur at the edges of her mind. I do not interfere. I watch. I learn. She flexed her fingers again on the wand, whispering "Lumos," willing the tiniest flicker, and this time it held a fraction longer, a mote of light, gone almost before she could fully notice it, yet undeniably real. One percent, maybe less, but it thrilled her more than she expected. "Oh, you have a wand, right? I forgot to ask," Susan said, leaning closer, curiosity shining in her eyes. Evelyn lifted it slightly, showing the smooth cherry wood, noting its subtle curve and faint pulse at the core. "Yes," she whispered. "I… have it." Susan's smile widened. "That's good! You'll need it for charms first, I think. Professor McGonagall is so precise, but she explains everything really well. I'm nervous about charms myself, but I've read a bit in advance." Evelyn listened, absorbing Susan's chatter, letting it settle in her mind while the system flickered faintly at the edges of awareness, tracking the tiny sparks she coaxed from the wand, noting the imperfect mastery, recording the beginnings of control. I do not understand it yet. I only know it is there. She traced the letters of her textbook again, "Wingardium Leviosa… Lumos… Nox…" whispering, twisting her wrist lightly, feeling tiny sparks flare and vanish, frustration and excitement tangled together in her chest. "Do you think I'll ever really get the hang of it?" she murmured under her breath, not to Susan, only to herself. The compartment seemed to lean in closer, the hum of the train louder, wheels clattering, distant laughter faint and fragmented, and for a moment she allowed herself a breath, letting the small spark of light at her wand tip linger just a moment longer. I am learning. I am alive. I am Evelyn Carmichael. Outside, mist curled around the platform, shadows stretching long across the stone, the faint hiss of steam filling the air, and Evelyn watched the other students shuffle past, some laughing, some carrying heavy trunks, some whispering nervously. Everything was vibrant and alive, yet she remained mostly invisible, mostly observer, noting gestures, snippets of conversation, the way the trolley moved, the clack of boots on the corridor, the flicker of magic that sometimes danced in hands not her own. I am small. I am new. I am ready. Susan hummed happily, talking about classes she was excited for, about her aunt Amelia's stories of Hogwarts, and Evelyn let herself smile faintly, leaning back against the bench, wand resting across her palm, tiny sparks of Lumos flaring at the tip when her attention wavered, the thrill of magic mingling with the strange, unfamiliar life she now inhabited. I am here. I am alive. I am learning. And I am beginning.After Susan moved off to check another compartment, Evelyn turned her attention fully to her trunk, kneeling carefully on the small bench, brass clasps cool beneath her fingertips as she opened it. The smell of polished wood, parchment, and faint hints of potion ingredients filled her senses, grounding her in the strangeness of this new body and life. I am Evelyn. I am here. Everything is mine, and yet nothing is mine. She lifted robes neatly folded at the top, running her fingers over the soft fabric, marveling at the care someone had taken in packing them, and then moved on to the cauldron, wrapped carefully in cloth, the potion bottles nestled safely in compartments. Her eyes settled on the textbooks, Latin letters and rune sketches in the margins stirring faint recognition, words she remembered but could not fully place. Lumos, Nox, Wingardium Leviosa… she traced each with a finger, whispered them softly, twisting her small wrist as she tested the first motions of magic she had yet to master. She lifted the wand resting across the top of the trunk, smooth cherry wood, length perfect for her small hand, core faintly warm, pulsing softly as if it remembered something she did not. I am Evelyn. I can feel it. I can hold it. I can begin. Carefully, she flexed her fingers, twisting, flicking, whispering "Lumos," and a single tiny spark flared at the tip, so small it was almost imperceptible, gone before she could steady it, yet undeniably real. One percent, maybe less, but undeniably there. The thrill of it shot through her chest, mingling with the memory of Daniel, the man she had been: careful, meticulous, always measuring twice, weighing every choice, yet swept away in an instant by an accident that had ended him forever. I am alive. I am Evelyn. I am beginning. Outside the compartment, muffled voices floated past, the hum of the train blending with the distant laughter of other students, the clack of boots on the corridor, the occasional shout as trolleys rattled along, but she remained focused, kneeling over her trunk, wand balanced carefully in her hand, eyes bright with concentration. She whispered again, and the spark flared once more, a mote of light, dancing briefly before vanishing. I am learning. I am small. I am Evelyn Carmichael. Her mind flickered briefly to Daniel's last moments—the rain slick metal, the twisting scaffolding, the sharp instant of weight and loss—and she felt the contrast acutely: here, warm, alive, with possibilities she could not have imagined before, the faint pulse of magic in her fingers tethering her to this strange new world. I am small, but I am beginning. She adjusted her robes, smoothing the folds, tugging at her hair, testing her balance as the train swayed gently beneath her, and leaned forward once more, whispering faintly, tracing the Latin letters in the textbook, twisting the wand, coaxing sparks, tiny threads of magic that refused to vanish completely, lingering a heartbeat longer each time. The system flickered faintly at the edge of awareness, silent, measuring, recording, noting the beginnings of her skill, her tiny mastery of the first spell she had ever made in this body. I do not understand it yet, but I am aware. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am learning. A shadow moved past the compartment door, footsteps light and hurried, faint muttering about a missing toad, and she glimpsed a bushy-haired girl muttering under her breath, eyes searching, but Evelyn said nothing, did not intervene, only watched. I am observer first. I am learning. I am alive. The mist swirled past the window, the night pressing close, lanterns outside casting long, twisting shadows across the carriage, and Evelyn leaned back against the bench, wand resting across her palm, spark flaring faintly once more as if to remind her she was here, she was real, and she was beginning. I am Evelyn Carmichael. I am alive. I am small. I am learning. And I am ready. Susan leaned back against the bench, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she glanced at Evelyn, eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. "I can't believe this is really happening! Have you ever seen a train like this before? Not a Muggle train, I mean… Hogwarts Express! It's magical, really magical, not like the stories you hear." Evelyn kept her gaze on the wand in her hand, tracing the cherry wood with her thumb, flexing her fingers carefully, willing another tiny spark. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am learning. "It's… impressive," she whispered quietly, not sure how much to reveal, feeling the spark flare at the tip, gone almost before she could steady it, but undeniably real. Susan clapped her hands lightly, as if reading the small motion as agreement. "Oh, you'll love it here. I heard about the first-year classes—Charms, Herbology, Potions… and they say the teachers are brilliant! McGonagall is strict, but fair, and Hagrid is—well, he's big, a little scary, but kind. You'll see." Evelyn nodded slightly, taking in the words, letting the excitement wash over her without letting herself get swept away. I am small. I am here. I do not belong fully yet. Susan's gaze flicked toward the corridor, voice dropping to a whisper. "Oh! And did you hear? Neville's toad is missing. He's panicking, poor thing, and Hermione's looking for him too. She's very precise, like Professor McGonagall." Evelyn's eyes followed a flicker of movement, a bushy-haired girl muttering under her breath, hands outstretched, searching, but she said nothing, merely observed, letting the world unfold around her. I do not interfere. I watch. She flexed her fingers again on the wand, whispering "Lumos," and the spark flared just a little longer this time, hovering at the tip for a heartbeat before vanishing, and she felt a thrill, small but undeniable, racing through her chest. One percent, maybe less, but undeniably present. I am beginning. Susan leaned closer again, voice full of wonder. "Do you have your wand yet? You need it for first-year Charms, they said, or you might have trouble. Everyone says it's tricky at first, but… oh! You'll see!" Evelyn lifted the wand slightly, showing its smooth cherry wood, faint pulse at the core, and whispered softly, "Yes… I have it." Susan's smile widened, radiant, infectious. "Good! That's so important, you know. I've been practicing the motions in my head all week. I'm nervous but excited. I hope I can do it right." Evelyn flexed her wrist gently, imagining the sweep of a charm, the spark flaring faintly, vanishing, and tried again, holding it just a fraction longer, feeling the tiniest thread of control, tingling under her skin. The system flickered quietly at the edges of her perception, silent, recording, noting her first tiny mastery, and she allowed herself a long, deliberate breath, letting the faint warmth of the wand anchor her in this new body. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am learning. Outside the compartment, mist twisted around the red carriages, shadows lengthened, the hiss of steam blending with distant laughter and the clatter of trunks, and Evelyn watched, still mostly unseen, observing the movements of students, snippets of conversation, gestures, and expressions she did not yet understand. I am observer first. I am learning. I am here. Susan hummed happily, chatting about classes, her aunt Amelia's stories of Hogwarts, and Evelyn allowed herself to smile faintly, wand resting lightly in her palm, sparks flickering as if affirming her existence, her presence, her beginnings. I am Evelyn Carmichael. I am alive. I am small. I am learning. I am ready. The train clattered steadily along the rails, darkness pressing close, and a faint thrill ran through her as the Hogwarts Express carried her forward, toward the unknown, toward the castle that awaited in shadow, toward the life that was entirely hers to shape. The train began to slow, a low groan echoing through the carriages as the wheels dragged against the iron rails, mist curling in through the windows, carrying a chill that pricked at Evelyn's small hands and cheeks. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am ready. She adjusted the folds of her robes, tugging at the hems, testing her balance as the carriage swayed gently, wand held tightly across her palm, smooth cherry wood pulsing faintly, tethering her to the magic she was only beginning to understand. Outside, shadows stretched long and thin across the platform, lanterns swinging in the wind, flickering light across wet stone, casting shapes that seemed alive, twisting in the mist. Evelyn's heart beat unevenly, a wild rhythm echoing the shuddering of the train beneath her, and she whispered softly under her breath, "Lumos," coaxing a single, tiny spark at the tip of the wand, one percent, maybe less, but undeniably there, hovering briefly before vanishing into the cold air. I can do this. I am learning. The compartment door opened a fraction, and Susan's bright voice floated in, trembling slightly with excitement. "It's almost time! The castle is just ahead, you can see the mist curling around the hills—it's… huge! You're going to love it!" Evelyn nodded slightly, allowing herself a faint smile, small fingers tightening once more on the wand, feeling the pulse of magic, the spark of control, the thrill of life she had not known before. Outside, the platform stretched, stone slick with frost, lanterns lining the way, students moving in clusters, laughter and chatter fading as the darkness pressed close, the Hogwarts Express hissing and groaning as if protesting the sudden halt, carrying away the distance from the familiar, the known, from everything she had left behind. I am Evelyn Carmichael. I am alive. I am here. The trunks would remain on the train, the robes, books, and cauldrons left behind, all she could take was this small wand, and she flexed her fingers over the smooth cherry wood once more, tracing the curve, the core's faint warmth, imagining the first spell she would cast in earnest, imagining herself stepping forward into the night, into the mist, into the castle that waited. She took a deep breath, small, deliberate, letting the cold air fill her lungs, mist swirling around her, shadows stretching across the platform like silent sentinels. I am Evelyn. I am alive. I am small. I am beginning. The train hissed its final note and fell silent behind her, leaving only the faint echo of wheels, the smell of coal and steam, the pressing dark, and the first thread of magic in her hand. She stepped onto the platform carefully, robes brushing the wet stone, wand in hand, spark flaring faintly at the tip, and allowed herself a tiny, exhilarated thrill at the sheer impossibility of it. I am here. I am alive. I am beginning. And with that, Evelyn Carmichael, small and fragile in a body not her own, walked forward, into the mist, into the unknown, into the first night of a life that was hers alone, ready to face whatever awaited in shadow, ready to learn, ready to begin.