Thorn | Neville Longbottom

The crimson steam of the Hogwarts Express billowed outside the window, blurring the passing countryside into streaks of green and gold. Inside, the air in the compartment felt thick with anticipation, though Briar Davies wished it would simply dissipate.

Pansy Parkinson chattered excitedly, her voice a shrill counterpoint to the rhythmic clatter of the train. “You girls should have seen him,” she gushed to Daphne Greengrass, fanning herself dramatically. “His hair… and those eyes… Oh merlin, I hope he’s my soulmate.” Millicent Bulstrode, ever the quiet shadow, merely nodded along, her eyes wide with a similar, if less vocal, hope.

Briar, seated by the window, stared out at the rapidly receding world, a knot tightening in her stomach. Tomorrow was the day. The day the Ministry’s ridiculous charade would begin. The day they’d receive their first 'hint' about their supposed soulmates.

She stood abruptly, the sudden movement drawing a brief, uninterested glance from her roommates. “I need to use the restroom,” she announced, her voice clipped. Without waiting for a response, she slipped out of the compartment, leaving behind the excited whispers and the suffocating anticipation.