by flowersarebeautiful_ winner of Magical Diversity Contest

Click, clack.

The wheels of Beatrice Brooks trolley clicked against the stone pathway as she made her way through King's Cross Station. As she passed each platform she counted in a whisper,

"Eight... Nine... Ten."

The letter had specifically said platform 9 ¾, but Beatrice was having a hard time believing that existed. But, anymore, most of the things she had thought to be myths and legends seemed to be popping up wherever she went.

First, the letter telling her she was a witch and needed to come to some magical school for witches and wizards, and then what? Next they would be telling her unicorns and mermaids were living next door! To be honest, Beatrice wouldn't be surprised if they did.

When Beatrice had gotten the letter it had definitely been a surprise, especially to her parents who were both, what were they called? Muggles, she thought was the right word. Basically that meant they were both human, yet somehow she was a witch.

Now, she was standing between platforms nine and ten staring at the brick wall in front of her. Her parents stood on either side of her equally confused.

"Maybe if we wait someone will come, and I can follow them," Beatrice said.

"Or we could just go home. This could just be a scam anyway. We're stupid believing it," her father pointed out.

"Dad, you know it's real." Her father had definitely not been very excited to have a witch in the family, or maybe he just didn't like the idea of his daughter going off to a magical boarding school on her own. Beatrice's mom had been much more excited than Beatrice and her father combined. She was proud to have a witch in the family, but like her husband she also worried. This was probably why she had stayed silent most of the drive down to the station and still now.

Beatrice didn't blame them. With her record in schools it was hard to imagine going and living with who knows how many people.

When she was younger, Beatrice had been, you could say the outsider of her class. Most kids' skin was either white or black or one single shade, whereas Beatrice's was a mix of both combined. Vitiligo was what the doctors called it, but when you're with other kids your age they're called leopard spots. Kids either avoid you completely or you become the subject of their full attention. And not in a good way. Things like this were the reason Beatrice's mother had started homeschooling her in second grade. Now was her first time going to an actual school in years.

Just then, a family walked up near where they were standing. The mother was already crying with either pride or sadness while holding on to a toddler's hand to keep him from running away. The father was standing with a girl that looked about Beatrice's age helping her with her trolley, identical to Beatrice's.

The family was now saying their goodbyes, and the father and girl were starting to walk away. Beatrice watched as the father led the girl straight through the brick wall between the numbers nine and ten! Beatrice stared at the wall in shock.

They were gone! They just disappeared through the wall, and now, she had to do it. Beatrice said a quick and tearful goodbye to her parents, took a deep breath, and ran at the wall. Thankfully, like the other girl, she walked right through.

On the other side hundreds of children were running around giving trolleys to workers to be packed on the train, hugging the family members left, and getting on the train. Beatrice handed her stuff to someone nearby to be packed onto the train and stepped up through the doors.

Once she found an empty cabin, Beatrice propped her feet up on the end of the seat and started reading a book she'd found in Diagon Alley. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scammander. It sounded interesting. For a little while, she was alone until the train whistle blew (probably a warning), and the last students flooded the train.

Beatrice wasn't expecting anyone to sit by her. Or at least she hoped no one did. If someone chose to sit by her it was usually just to bug her or even make fun of her. Plus the fantastic beasts book was actually pretty good, and she didn't need to be interrupted.

Suddenly, the door slid open and the girl from the platforms peeked in.

"Can I sit in here with you? Everywhere else is full," she said.

"Uh, sure," Beatrice moved her feet, "Go ahead."

The girl sat down.

"Did you hear?" the girl asked. Her voice was filled with curiosity and excitement. "Harry Potter's on this train! Apparently, he's going to be a first year at Hogwarts just like us."

Beatrice frowned, "Harry who?"

The girl looked at her in awe, "You don't know who Harry Potter is? Wait, are you muggle-born because then that would make sense, but if you're not..."

"Yeah, I guess you could say I'm muggle-born."

"Well, I guess I'll have to tell you the story here because you cannot walk into Hogwarts not knowing who Harry Potter is. Oh, and what was your name again? I didn't get it."

"It's Beatrice Brooks, but you can call me Bea. Most people do."

"Okay. Hi Bea. My name is Polly Heather." Then, Polly began to tell Beatrice the story of Harry Potter.

It amazed Beatrice how since the moment Polly walked into the cabin she hadn't flinched or even questioned her looks. It was almost like she didn't even notice.

Maybe Hogwarts wasn't going to be like past schools.

Maybe she would feel like she belonged.