After a few months of not uploading I decided to come back to this story! I'm editing from the beginning, as my writing back then was not the best. After I've edited the existing chapters I'll move onto new chapters! I'm so excited to be back!
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"Look, the freaks finally leaving!" Someone stuck out a foot out over the narrow bus aisle. I jumped over it, but Ryan raised his sneaker clad foot in anticipation and kicked me in the face. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor, whirling around to face Ryan. The riders in the aisle around me shrieked and laughed, pushing back against the seats.

I stared daggers at Ryan, wheeling my fist back and connecting hard with his shocked face.
We jumped on each other, twisting and rolling down the aisle as one simple sentence turns into an all out brawl. The driver doesn't seem at all surprised when two wrestling orphans roll down his steps, crashing into the pavement below. In fact, I hear him mutter, "My bets on the girl."

My anger turned to furry as the boy muttered things into my ear, and I put him in a death headlock, one that would come in handy now. But I don't tighten it. Because a red head family is standing there, slightly shocked with mouths hanging open. The man, presumably the father, is laughing.

"So that's how them muggles do it, right Molly?" He says, shaking his head with a grin.
"Muggles?" I mutter. Probably some new term for people like me made up by some posh Londoners. But these people don't look like posh Londoners at all. 

"Nothing, it's what we wizards call you," The man said as he turned back to his wife and started to walk away.
I ignored him but then fully processed what he had said. "Wait, wizards?" I stuttered, scrambling after him. I prayed he wasn't some cuckoo man spewing nonsense at a train station.

"Yes..." He said, frowning at me.
"li- like at Hogwarts?" I ask.

"Are you one?" He asked, sticking out a hand to help me up.
"Yes! Well, I got this letter, and I don't know where to go..." I showed him the letter the strange old man with the white beard showed me. The red wax stained my fingers as I pried it open.

"Yes, you're a witch!" The red-headed man said, grinning widely.
"Usually when I hear that sentence it isn't so cheerful."
"Molly, help this young witch find her way to the station," He turned back to me,
"Where's your trunk? And robes?" He asked, looking around.
My face went bright red.
"Well, you see, I'm- I'm a... the man with the beard...-Dumbledore?- said he would work something out..." I trailed off, looking away.
"Well whatever Dumbledore says goes!" He patted me on the back and directed me to his wife, Molly.

"Hello dearie, my guess is you need some help going through?" She seemed very kind and I trusted her, which is very rare for me to do.
"Yes Ma'am." I said, fiddling with my scarf.
"Well just run on through, it can't hurt you." She said cheerfully. I nodded. I wasn't quite sure how sane this lady was, but followed her instructions.
Before I knew it I was standing in front of a smoking red and black train, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. I unconsciously fumbled with my Liverpool sweatshirt, glancing around nervously. All the other kids were wearing fancy jet black robes and collard shirts.

A boy that was standing a few yards away caught sight of me and did a double take, but turned away quickly. Another girl looked at me, but with more fear and confusion than disapproval.

Was my shirt that weird? I shook off the stares -I was fairly used to them anyways- and continued to wander around. I finally stepped on the train. I wove my way through the aisle and peeked inside the only empty compartment.
"Mind if I sit here?" I asked, looking around.
"Not at all! Here," a red haired girl patted the seat next to her. "I'm Ginny, this is Rebbeca, and that's Flower." Ginny pointed to the other two girls.

"So, what's your name?" Ginny asked, scooting over. "You're a first year, right?"
I nodded. "My name's Bean. Atleast, that's what everyone calls me. Don't know my real name. Even the acceptance letter I got just said 'Bean' in fancy, curly letters." I shrugged, only realizing then how cockney my accent was. The girls laughed and Ginny looked to me.
"Well, we're in our second year." She said. I nodded.
"How come my robes don't have that...?" I pointed to a patch on Ginny's robe.
"Oh, you don't know about the sorting, right?"  The train chugged forwards and I grabbed onto the armrests as we left the station
"Sorting? What's that?"
"You'll see." Ginny grinned at me.
****
I left the compartment around halfway through to use the loo.
"-You're going to put him back right!..." A yelling voice floated past our open compartment door. A boy with his tie wrapped around his forehead came crashing down the aisle. He was chasing a girl who was holding a pig, a giant smile on her face.

I blinked once and then decided to follow them.

I caught up with the boy, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Oy, what's this all about?" I asked, still running down the carpeted aisle.
"That girl grabbed Nick!" He yelled, pointing ahead and the girl. "And she turned him into a pig!"
I laughed out loud, and the boy smiled and stopped running.

"Name's Caslon. Caslon Redding." He said, with an American accent, and he stuck out his hand. I raised an eyebrow.
"You're American." I said, shaking his hand.
"That I am. And you are?"
"Bean." I said, winking.
"I'm from New York." He explained.
"Peckham." He looked at me, apologetically clueless.
"That's ok. Americans are ignorant."
"Hey!"

"You know that girl?" I asked quickly, looking towards the girl with the pig. She had stopped running too, and was now walking towards us.
"I think her names Darley. Apparently she's a Geoffrey. Those kids are... basically geniuses. It's in their blood. Her sister can speak fluent parsel-tongue, she taught herself. I hear that Darley is in 6th year transfiguration, which would explain how she turned Nick into a pig."
The girl had now reached us. She rolled her eyes at Caslon and handed him the squealing piglet.
"You flatter me." She laughed, pulling out her wand.
"Porcus pilo." She said, pointing her wand at the pig. An 11 year old boy suddenly jumped from Calson's arms. Nick coughed (or should I say 'oinked') once, his cheeks an alarming shade of pink. Within seconds he returned to back to normal.
"What in Merlin's Name!-" Nick looked around, shocked and suprised.

"Anyway, I'm Darley Geoffrey. And you are?" The girl turned to me.
"Bean." I said, grinning. This was one girl I could be friends with.