The world was dark, cold, and damp that evening. To the wide and rounded eyes of Nerissa Hatts, the sun hadn't simply retired for the night, but had vanished from existence entirely. While the moon bathed Charing Cross Road in its faint glow, Nerissa found that the dim light was not enough to prevent her from tripping over cracks in the street, or to allow her to glance over her shoulder and make certain that the footsteps that she'd heard had only been a symptom of paranoia. Of what use was the moon, if not to aid those who had no choice but to drudge through the streets at night? Maybe, the young Ravenclaw considered, the moon has forgotten its purpose. Not out of aggravation did this possibility occur to her, but out of fear of the unnatural darkness that the streets had been cloaked in.
But a far more frightening truth awaited Nerissa, one which she had refused to spare thoughts of that evening, for the sake of her safety. Surely, if her mind began to crumble in such a dark corner of England, there would not be enough of her left to defend herself from the creatures that she was certain were lurking around every corner. Nerissa had far too many things to fear. She needn’t add on to the list by coming to terms with the fact that she had been locked out of Hogwarts.
A phone box. Find a phone box. Find a phone box. Call Calvin. Go home. She reminded herself repeatedly in the hopes of focusing solely on the task at hand.
True to the nature of Nerissa’s luck, there was no such booth in sight. And, as though that was not enough to shake the small child, as she continued walking along the road’s edge, the footsteps that Nerissa had previously dismissed grew louder.
Run! Her mind demanded, and that was precisely what she did.
In fact, she ran as fast as her feet would carry her. Her breathing came in sharp, painful gasps as she tumbled forward. Her lungs screamed as their oxygen supply was depleted with each step that she took. But she stopped for nothing – until a lantern’s flickering flame caught her eyes. Above the lantern, hung a sign; one that read The Leaky Cauldron.
Nerissa had never imagined herself associating fire with safety, or warmth in the way that she had at the sight of that lantern. Neither had she expected to set foot in a pub, and to be filled with a feeling of relieve upon doing so.
It seemed that it was an evening of firsts.
She drew the door open hastily, panting all the while.