A Slight Misunderstanding || Bertha and Amycus || Snakes on a Train || Sept. 1st 1979
Bertha was whistling. She was in an undeniably good mood. She had snuck away for an early lunch so she could watch the Hogwarts Express take off for another school year. It was nervous, but exciting, times in her eyes, and there would without a doubt happen something today. She was sure of it. The Order would be on the lookout for the smallest possible disturbance, and she doubted the Death Eaters would lie comfortably in their beds. Bertha wanted to be in the middle of it all, certain that she would find some juicy details among the nervous parents waving off their kids.
As she entered King’s Cross she could see the signs that the muggles were too blind to see. An owl in a cage here, colourful robes there. Bertha fished out her watch from her pocket and saw that there was twenty minutes left until the train left. Still whistling she walked toward the platform, navigating on autopilot. Her feet had walked this path many times before. A short, blonde kid rushed past her, through the wall, and with a snort she followed suit.
It brought a slight nostalgia, seeing the red train getting ready to leave for another year. For a short moment Bertha felt eleven again, excitedly getting ready to leave home and make friends at Hogwarts. The thought made her shudder as soon as it had entered her brain. Thank Merlin she had escaped the naivety of youth.
She started walking among the crowd, snapping up conversations here and there, but nothing interested her so far. Every now and then she would see faces she recognised, and when she did she quickly ducked out of sight. It would be easier if no one knew she was there.
Maybe that’’s why she got so blindsided when everything went wrong. In one moment she was listening to two witches sharing secrets of their illicit affair, the next there was black smoke everywhere as people began apparating in on the platform. Death Eaters, she thought, and gripped her wand tight, ready to defend herself if anyone were to attack her. Through the panic, bodies pushing everywhere, Bertha found herself unable to move on her own accord.
“Get off me,” she let out, but there was no use. One hard shove and she was on the moving train, chaos ensuing around her. “Bloody hell,” she mumbled and gripped her wand tightly. This was just great. The was the definition of getting involved. Which made her a target.
