Chatterbox: Blab About Books

An eleven year-old-boy sits in a train compartment, alone, reading a book.

He is short, and implausibly skinny. He is very pale. His hair is long, black, and unruly. He has an angular face and a large nose. He is very good - a bit too good - at hiding his feelings, but if there's one that comes across loudly and clearly, it is scorn. 

There is a knock on the door. He looks up in time to see another boy come in to the compartment.

The other boy is freckled and orange-haired, and he carries a brown paper bag. He points at a seat. "Anyone sitting there?" he asks, a bit apologetically. "Everywhere else is full."

The other boy shakes his head.

"Name's Ron. Ron Weasley."

Ron Weasley doesn't seem to notice or care that he was being ignored. He peers into his bag, then drops it, groaning. "She knows I hate corned beef!" He looks up at his companion. "What's your name?" 

As the other boy looks up exasperatedly from his book, his hair moves slightly, revealing a mark on his forehead.

It is a scar.

It is shaped like a lightning bolt.

Ron's mouth falls open. He stares. Then he swallows, hard. "It's you," he whispers. His voice is a mix of shock, horror, fear, and loathing.

He picks up his detested bag, and he leaves the compartment, without once looking back.