(Author's note: I am not a writer, just taking my first step into creating fanfiction. I heavily used ChatGPT, so if there's anything wrong or things I should add, inform me so I can fix it.)
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.
The platform was full of life, parents fussing over children, trolleys rattling, laughter and steam 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. 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.
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. "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, 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. 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. 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.
Susan hummed happily, talking about classes she was excited for, her aunt Amelia's stories, and Evelyn let herself smile faintly, leaning back, wand flickering with tiny sparks. She flexed her fingers on the wand, whispering "Lumos", and the tiniest flicker held a moment longer, a mote of light, gone almost before she could fully notice it, yet undeniably real.
I am learning. I am alive. I am Evelyn Carmichael.
She observed other students passing, 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, the flicker of magic in hands not her own.
I am small. I am new. I am ready.
Carefully, she flexed her fingers, twisting, flicking, whispering "Lumos", and a single tiny spark flared at the tip, almost imperceptible, gone before she could steady it, yet undeniably real. One percent, maybe less, but undeniably there.
The thrill 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 distant laughter, the clack of boots, the occasional shout as trolleys rattled along. She remained focused, kneeling over her trunk, wand balanced carefully in her hand, eyes bright with concentration.
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. She adjusted her robes, testing her balance as the carriage swayed gently, wand held tightly, pulsing faintly, tethering her to the magic she was only beginning to understand.
Outside, shadows stretched 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 "Lumos", coaxing a tiny spark, one percent, maybe less, but undeniably there.
I can do this. I am learning.
Susan's bright voice floated in, trembling 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.
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.