Journey to Ilvermorny

Dawn had barely broken, and the light was still hazy.

The city remained shrouded in darkness, while the airport terminal blazed with lights. Noisy broadcasts tirelessly announced flight information, and crowds flowed between elevators and corridors. Loren and Hermione followed an airport staff member, avoiding the packed crowd and taking another passage through security to board their flight.

Because there had been too little time to arrange a flight to Massachusetts, they had switched to a direct flight from London to New York, a nine-hour journey.

The two boarded the plane, stowed their luggage, and sat side by side.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. They had not gotten home until late last night, and after chatting with her mother about the long trip until dawn, she had only slept for a few hours before being dragged out to catch the flight while it was still dark. Her head felt foggy, and her thoughts were sluggish.

Hermione glanced at Loren. He wore a plain white short-sleeved shirt under a beach shirt, denim shorts, and a baseball cap. His outfit was extremely casual; the only remotely formal thing about him was his shoes. He looked like a student heading off for a summer holiday.

She did not particularly like that sort of outfit, yet it somehow looked good on Loren, and she could not help sneaking glances at him.

Illuminated signs lit up along both sides of the runway, dispelling the dim deep-blue night. Loren leaned close to the window, pressing his forehead against the glass as he stared outside without blinking.

"What are you looking at?"

"Looking for any subtle signs."

"What?"

Loren shook his head with a mysterious expression. "I once heard a story. A group of seventeen-year-old students boarded a plane departing before dawn. Before takeoff, they