The wall did not stop me.
For one strange, suspended instant, there was only the expectation of impact—the cold certainty of brick rushing toward my face,in that one terrible second I convinced myself that all of this month was some kind of fever dream of mine, thoughts flashed in my mind accompanied with a fresh flush of panic.
Then the barrier gave way and I stepped through into another world. I kept walking a while still until I came to halt standing next to the news stand and looked around, keeping my face carefully neutral.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was quieter than I had expected.
Not empty, but close enough that the emptiness around what was there only made it feel more deliberate. A few scattered families stood far apart from one another, their voices softened by the open space.
One witch adjusted the scarf of a sleepy-looking boy near the far end of the platform. An old wizard in a dark travelling cloak sat on a bench with an owl cage at his feet and a newspaper open in his hands. Somewhere behind me, a trolley wheel clicked softly over a stone.
And beyond all of it—The train. I had stopped walking without meaning to.
The Hogwarts Express stood waiting in a long line of scarlet and black, polished so well the early light caught across its side in clean red gleams. Steam curled in pale white ribbons around the engine and drifted upward beneath the iron arches of the station roof. Brass fittings shone. Windows reflected the platform in dark glass.
For a moment, standing there in my jacket, my robe folded over my arm like a rain coat might and the trunk masquerading as a suitcase I just stared.
It was ridiculous, really.
A train was a train.
I had seen trains before.
Those had belonged to the ordinary world, to soot and schedules and stations that smelled at newspapers, and impatience.
This one looked as though someone had taken the idea of a train and refined it until it became the sort of thing children would remember for the rest of their lives whether they wished to or not.
It felt, absurdly enough, ceremonial.
As though the platform itself understood what sort of threshold it was.
The quiet suited it.
If it had been crowded at once, perhaps the first impression would have been noise and confusion and the ordinary terror of being surrounded by strangers. But in the near-emptiness, the train stood alone long enough to feel almost personal.
As if I had arrived early enough to be introduced to it properly.I let out a slow breath and resumed walking, more carefully now.
A sign fixed overhead confirmed what walking through a wall had already proved.
HOGWARTS EXPRESS
11 O'CLOCK
In the Leaky Cauldron, Hogwarts had felt like the next stage of a plan.
Here it felt like a destination that had already existed long before I was born and had merely chosen, at last, to admit me.
That was a much stranger feeling.
I decided to step in and find a compartment for myself, somewhere to observe the platform and to calm down.
I moved further along the train's length, scanning the nearest compartments through the windows. Most were still empty but I decided to keep moving still. A few already held luggage or cages set aside to claim a place before their owners wandered off again.
A compartment near the middle had its door slid half open.
I paused beside it.
Empty. Sunshine was pooling on the benches and dust mites dancing in the air looked magical, it was cosy.
I shrugged to myself.
Seems as good a sign as any.
I looked once up and down the platform from the window of the compartment, mostly from habit. A few more people had come through the barrier now, but the place still had room enough to breathe.
No rushing crowd yet. No loud knot of students trying to prove something to one another before school had even begun. No need to choose my company too quickly.
That suited me.
I stood in the doorway a moment longer before closing the door and sitting down putting my suitcase next to me with the robe.
I just took it all in.
The cushion was firm. The compartment smelled faintly of old polish, steam, and sun-warmed fabric. Outside the window, a pale line of steam drifted across the platform and thinned into nothing. The clock near the entrance told me I was half an hour early, hence the lack of people.
I allowed myself to stop moving entirely.
This was it, then. Not quite Hogwarts yet,but the road to it.
Now that I was finally on my way,I was feeling calm again. All things I had deemed necessary had been accomplished to the best of my ability.
Just like Julius Caesar said,"Alea iacta est" or die has been cast. Nothing to do but to see how it falls now.
I rested one hand lightly on the seat beside me and found myself smiling in the reflection on the window.
It wasn't a wide elated smile, it was a small thing I could barely see myself from the reflection. Just enough to feel it.
I looked out the window at the still-quiet platform and composed myself.
There would be time enough for wonder later.
Which meant I could observe, that, at least, was familiar ground.
Although, first things first. I stood up again.
I took off my jacket and folded it properly and proceeded to put it in my trunk. Next I put the robe on and sit down again.
Now feeling it on me again, I realise how used to wearing robes I had really gotten, I felt much more comfortable now than I did before in my muggle jacket.
Time trickled slowly or so it seemed and the quiet did not last much longer.
It never does, I suppose, in places meant for departure.
At first, the change was almost imperceptible.
Another trolley through the barrier.
Then another.
Slowly the volume on the platform seemed to shift from sleepy to anxiety and haste.
A pair of voices somewhere down the platform, louder than before. The rustle of robes. The distinct, indignant hoot of an owl that objected strongly to being moved before it had fully woken.
I did not move from my seat. I just kept looking out at the platform. All the hustle and bustle.
A boy passed my compartment window at a brisk pace, his mother following close behind with a list in one hand and the sort of expression that suggested she did not trust either the list or the boy to behave properly without supervision. He glanced at the train as he walked, eyes bright despite his attempt to appear unimpressed.
First year.
Obvious.
A moment later, another.
This one slower, trailing behind his parents with the air of someone who had not yet decided whether this was an adventure or chore. I watched them both without appearing to.
Some children walked ahead.
Some were guided.
Some were carried along by the decisions of others.
I suspected that would not change much once the train started moving.
The platform filled by degrees rather than all at once. Enough to break the illusion of solitude, not enough yet to dissolve it entirely. Voices layered over one another. Laughter appeared in brief, sharp bursts. Instructions were given, repeated, ignored.
Steam thickened slightly around the engine.
I shifted my attention toward the far end of the platform just as another figure stepped through the barrier.
Not because of anything obvious.
Because of the way he paused.
Tall for his age. Dark hair. Composed posture that looked practiced rather than natural. His eyes moved once across the platform—not wide, not curious, but measuring.
Familiar.
I had seen him before.
The Leaky Cauldron.
The boy with the father who looked like he had been cut from authority rather than raised into it.
He moved toward the train without hesitation this time, guiding his own trunk with a firm grip. No wasted motion or visible uncertainty. He seemed completely at ease.
Interesting.
More arrivals followed.
A girl with her hair tied too tightly back, speaking rapidly to a witch who was either her mother or her instructor—it was difficult to tell which.
A boy arguing about something trivial with enough passion to suggest he had not yet learned the value of choosing his battles. Two older students walked together with the casual confidence of those who had done this before and saw no reason to pretend otherwise.
And through it all, the train remained unchanged.
Waiting patiently for yet another year of students to board and let it take them to Hogwarts.
As though it had seen generations of children arrive with the same mixture of excitement, fear, ambition, and denial, and had long ago decided none of it required comment of the no doubt sentient magical thing.
I found that thougth, oddly reassuring.
A faint movement in the glass caught my attention.
My own reflection.
Robes settled properly now. Posture straight. Expression composed.
Acceptable.
I leaned back slightly in my seat and let my gaze drift once more across the platform.
Half an hour early had become twenty minutes.
Soon enough, someone would open this door.
I rested my hand lightly on the edge of the seat and waited.
The knock came sooner than I had expected.
Not loud. Not hesitant either. A measured sort of knock, as though the person on the other side had already decided they would be admitted.
I looked up.
"Come in."
The door slid open.
A redheaded girl stepped in first, composed in a way that felt practiced rather than natural. I recognized her at once—the niece. Bones.
She was not alone.
Another girl followed just behind her, fair-haired, softer in posture but not in attention. Where Susan Bones held herself still, this one seemed more inclined toward quiet curiosity, her eyes moving more freely around the compartment before settling on me.
Susan spoke first.
"May we?"
Not may we sit, nor is this taken. Just may we.
"Yes," I said, while making a small offering gesture with my hand towards the seat in front of me without making a show of it. "You're welcome to."
They stepped in together, the second girl closing the door behind them with a careful motion that suggested habit rather than thought.
Susan remained standing for a moment.
"I'm Susan Bones," she said.
The second girl smiled faintly.
"Hannah Abbott."
I inclined my head slightly.
"Alexander Hawthorn."
I did not offer a hand to either of them.
Susan's gaze sharpened by a fraction—not in hostility, nor even suspicious, but attentive in a way that suggested she had learned to pay attention to small things, and to remember the slightest of infractions.
oh dear, she's easy to offend isn't she?
I thought with similar cadence as my mirror used in the leaky and the thought almost made me smile wider. Almost
"You work at the Leaky Cauldron," she said.
Not a question.
"I did."
"For Tom."
"Yes."
Hannah glanced between us, clearly following the exchange but not yet stepping into it.
Susan tilted her head very slightly.
"You spoke with my aunt yesterday."
There it was. Not an accusation, not quite curious either. More like a polite sort of demand on a knowledge she already felt she was owed to.
"I did."
A pause.
She waited, with what I assume was her best approximation of a patient smile, but came out more as a wooden one.
Interesting. She has probably seen her aunt use that smile many times, but she hasn't figured out that she's eleven. Not really the same effect when her aunty does it now is it.
I met her gaze evenly with my well practiced polite smile firmly in place.
"She had a few questions for me, " I said. "I answered them to the best of my abilities."
Hannah let out the smallest breath that might have been amusement.
"That sounds like her," she said quietly.
Susan did not smile and kept asking.
"What about?"
Direct, well of course she is.
I considered the answer for half a second.
Too much detail would be foolish, if her aunt wanted her to know about it she would have already told her.
So—
"Books," I said succinctly
That earned me the first visible reaction from Susan and even more so from Hannah her
eyebrows rose to her hairline and her mouth was comically open.
Susan's eyes narrowed just enough to suggest interest rather than doubt.
"Books," she repeated.
"Yes."
"That's all?"
"For the most part." I nodded to punctuate the point
Not the whole truth, sure but all I was willing to tell.
Susan held my gaze a moment longer.
Then, to my mild surprise, she nodded once.
"Fair enough."
She looked like she did not believe that was all, but she accepted it as sufficient for now.
She seemed to understand I would not tell her more than I already did.
Hannah relaxed first, settling into the seat opposite me with a small exhale.
"It's a bit strange, isn't it?" she said, glancing toward the window. "Actually being here, I mean."
"Yes," I said. "Allthough less so than I expected."
Susan finally sat as well, posture straight, hands resting neatly in her lap.
"You arrived early."
I thought of the quote fitting enough for the situation.
"A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to."
"I see someone has read Tolkien." She said with some amusement in her voice.
High praise to be sure. Hannah looked puzzled
" who?"
"oh he's just this weird old wizard who wrote about magic to the muggles to amuse himself." Susan said flippantly
"Auntie loves his books though and I read some of the first one but the Dementors in it gave me nightmares so I gave up." She admitted to Hannah being a bit embarrassed.
Outside, the platform had grown noticeably busier now. Voices overlapped. More compartments were filling. A boy somewhere nearby was loudly insisting he did not need help while clearly requiring it.
Hannah leaned slightly toward the window.
"I think this one will fill quickly." She said to no one particularly but I answered regardless
"Likely," I said.
Which meant,they would not be staying.
This might have been the first near empty compartment they saw, or more likely Miss Bones spotted me and wished to ask some questions about the talk her aunt gave me.
I pondered as they already started to leave.
Susan stood again without hesitation."We'll leave you to it," she said.
Hannah followed, though she gave me a small, warmer smile as she did.
"See you at school, Alexander."
I nodded back at them both "Miss Abbott. Miss Bones."
Susan paused at the door."One thing," she said.
"Yes?"
She looked at me a bit assessingly "If you ever decide to ask my aunt questions again—"
A brief pause.
"—choose them carefully."
It didn't sound like a warning. More like advice for a kid too stupid to realise fire is hot, but well meaning all the same.
I nodded once.
"Thanks for the advice Miss Bones."
She studied me for half a second longer,then she left.
The door slid shut behind them.
Silence returned to the compartment.The platform beyond the window was no longer sparse.
I leaned back slightly in my seat and let out a slow breath.
Susan Bones was not like her aunt at all.
But she was close enough to some of her mannerisms to shine through .
I glanced once at the door.
Then at the empty seat across from me.
That would not remain empty for long.
The quiet did not return after Susan and Hannah left.
More footsteps along the platform. More doors opening and closing along the train. Voices layering over one another, not yet loud, but no longer distant.
I had just settled back into observing the platform's chaos,when the door opened again without a knock.
A girl stepped in with purposeful steps.
Brown hair—impossible to fully tame, though not for lack of trying. Arms full of books, more than anyone needed for a journey of this length. Her eyes moved quickly, not aimlessly but with intent, taking in the compartment in a single sweep before settling on me.
"Is this compartment free?" she asked.
For a single instant, I had the urge to joke, as Tom no doubt would have. Tell her it was probably very expensive, not free.
A moment passed and I simply answered.
"It is."
"Good."
She entered at once, setting her books down with care rather than haste.
"Hermione Granger." She spit out with a look that challenged to make fun of her name. Of course I had no such intention, so I answered just simply with my name.
"Alexander Hawthorn."
She nodded once.
"You're early." She said with a far more reasonable tone.
I thought about repeating my joke from earlier but gave up and said "I prefer it."
"That's sensible."
She sat opposite me, opening a book almost immediately.
"You're already in robes," she said, as an afterthought
"Yes."
"Most people aren't." She shot back immediately like an interrogator from Scotland Yard.
"I noticed." I said with a small smile, I could not really hide my amusement since she was so clearly a nervous wreck.
She studied me briefly.
Before she could continue, the door opened again—this time with a knock.
Brief. Measured.
"Come in."
A boy stepped in, pausing just inside as his eyes moved quickly over the compartment. Not uncertain—just… aware.
"Is there still space?"
"Yes."
He nodded once and entered.
"Terry Boot."
"Alexander Hawthorn."
"Hermione Granger."
He chose his seat without hesitation, placing his things neatly beside him.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
"You're early," Terry said, glancing toward me.
I looked at him a bit dubiously
Was he eavesdropping at the door for an ice breaker or conversation starter? Also choosing to go with hers? Whatever he came up with must have been terrible indeed.
I thought and looked at him a bit pityingly
"Why would you say so?" I asked curiously disregarding my doubts for now.
He considered that.
"Most people who sit here are either anxious or if they are older,calm and happy you don't fit the profile."
I tilted my head " I could be just hiding my nerves you know" I proposed
Hermione turned a page a bit impatiently.
"I don't see why it matters."
"It doesn't," Terry said mildly. "Until it does."
That seemed to conclude the matter—for them, at least.
I looked from one to the other with deliberate slowness.
This has to be the weirdest non conversation I have had in a while.
I thought, a bit amused all the same, and leaned back to the seat proper.
The door opened again. A girl stepped in, expression slightly apologetic, though nothing had yet occurred to warrant it.
"Sorry—um—is there still room?"
"Yes." Terry said immediately
She smiled faintly.
"Tracy Davis."
"Terry Boot." He hastily said
"Alexander Hawthorn."
"Hermione Granger."
She took the remaining seat, arranging her things quickly but neatly.
Her attention moved between us—not prying, not withdrawn. Just… attentive.
"Is it always this quiet?" she asked.
"Not for long," Terry said.
As if to prove the point, the corridor outside grew louder. Someone ran past the door then the door opened again.
A blonde girl stepped in without a knock like it was her own home.
Her posture was composed—not stiff, not exaggerated, but intentional. Her gaze moved across the compartment once, quick and precise, and in that instant I had the clear impression of being assessed.
"Is this taken?" she asked from no one in particular, pointing next to Tracy.
"No," I said. I was starting to get a bit miffed about my compartment being some public stop that everyone and their mother is invading with impunity.
Perhaps I just got used to the privacy and relative peace in the Leaky last month.
I thought as I clamped down on my own irrational irritation
She inclined her head.
"Daphne Greengrass." She said to me
"Alexander Hawthorn." I said politely looking at her
"Hermione Granger." came the answer behind a massive Hogwarth a History book in a distracted voice.
"Terry Boot." Terry said with all the dignity of a slightly wimpy kid at eleven trying to come off as aristocratic he definitely wasn't.
She acknowledged each of us with a small nod before choosing her seat—positioned to see both the door and the window right next to Tracy.
Tracy relaxed slightly in her presence.
Curious, are they acquainted since there's no need for an introduction?
Daphne settled without unnecessary movement, hands briefly folding in her lap gazing out of the window
Silence followed and for a few moments there was nothing but five people breathing and Hermione changing pages.
"Has anyone else read Hogwarts: A History?" Hermione asked, suddenly breaking the silence and looking up. "Or am I the only one who thought it might be useful to know where we're going?"
Her tone was a bit condescending but I think it was more out of habit than directed to any of us personally.
Terry's mouth twitched faintly.
"I've read parts."
"Parts?" Hermione repeated, in disbelief. As if not reading the whole book is blasphemy of the highest order.
"Yes." he confirmed with proud nod
"That hardly seems sufficient." She asserted with doubt in her voice.
"I find selective reading more efficient." Terry went on, happily disregarding the clear annoyance on Hermione's face
"That's not how knowledge works." She said gritting her teeth
"That depends on what you intend to do with it." he shrugged philosophically
Tracy looked between them, uncertain and definitely amused.
Daphne said nothing.
Neither did I.
Hermione looked at Terry like he was some sort of dangerous mad man then she huffed and returned to her book.
Terry leaned back slightly, watching nothing in particular. Tracy sat neatly, hands folded, posture attentive mirroring her friend Daphne.
I let the silence stretch a few seconds longer.
Then—
"So Miss Greengrass, how long have you and Miss Davis been friends?
I asked with a polite smile looking at her.
From the corner of my eye I noted how Tracy blinked eyes wide.
Daphne's gaze shifted to me, not sharply, but with a precision that suggested full attention.
Hermione looked up at once glancing from one girl to another. Terry did not move—but I saw the interest settle in as he stopped staring at nothing and started to focus on the girls.
Tracy recovered first.
"We just met," she said.
I inclined my head slightly.
"Of course you did"
A pause.Then, calmly—
"You just met, yet neither of you asked the other's name. Pardon me for assuming you were old friends"
Tracy stilled.
Hermione looked between them, clearly following now.
Daphne did not interrupt or even fidget in her seat. She just looked at me with an impassive face.
I continued, not pressing, merely explaining my point of view.
"You also chose your seats without hesitation," I said. "Miss Davis relaxed after you entered Miss Greengrass, but not before. And neither of you has looked at the other as though you're forming a first impression like we did before"
I met Daphne's gaze.
"That suggests some amount of familiarity. Doesn't it?"
Silence.
Then—
The faintest curve touched the corner of Daphne's mouth.
Not a smile, it was far too mechanical for that. I took it as acknowledgment
"Well observed, Mr.Hawthorn."
Tracy exhaled quietly, somewhere between relief and embarrassment.
"We weren't trying to hide it," she said hastily
"You were," Daphne replied calmly, without looking at her. "Just not very well"
Tracy flushed slightly" I have trouble with making friends so I thought some secret support would help." she said and mutter out the rest in embarrassedly
Hermione leaned forward, clearly interested now.
"How did you notice all that?" she asked.
I glanced at her.
"The same way one notices anything," I said. "By looking."
"That's not very specific." Hermione accused
"No," I agreed with a smile " it isn't"
Terry huffed something that might have been a suppressed laugh.
Daphne's attention remained on me.
"You chose to say something," she said. "Most would not, most would wait,And you did not."
"No." I said simply
"Why?" She asked
That was the question.
"Because I wanted to know." I said with a shrug
She seemed to think about it for a moment then she inclined her head slightly.
"Then allow me to correct the introduction," she said.
She gestured lightly to her friend
"Tracy Davis."
Then, with equal ease—
"Daphne Greengrass."
A beat.
"Our mothers were best friends at school so we have known each other since childhood." She explained.
Tracy let out a small breath, now visibly more at ease.
Hermione looked faintly dissatisfied, as though she had expected something more dramatic.
Terry, on the other hand, looked quietly entertained.
I gave a polite nod and said nothing.
No need.
The point had been made.
Daphne studied me a bit longer as if trying to place a face once seen.
"You work at the Leaky Cauldron," she said suddenly.
"Yes."
"And apparently you notice things."
"I try to." I confirmed
She nodded once as if that was the whole conversation which it really wasn't
"That may prove useful."
Tracy smiled faintly now, the earlier tension gone.
"Well," she said, "at least we're now all acquainted"
Hermione closed her book with a soft thump.
"I still think it would have been simpler to just say you knew each other." She insisted
"Simple," Daphne said mildly, "is not always the preferable route."
Hermione frowned.
"I don't see why not."
"I imagine you wouldn't" Daphne said dryly
Hermione huffed, clearly unsatisfied but unwilling to keep arguing and opened up the book again.
The compartment settled again—but differently this time.
But something had shifted.
Positions had been established.
I leaned back slightly in my seat looking out to see people filling the platform.
Voices rose. Steam thickened. Movement accelerated.
Departure approached.
I felt the excitement returning as I watched people climb aboard and in the reflection of the window I noticed Daphne tilting her head and looking at me. So I turned to look back at her.
Daphne remained composed "Hawthorn isn't a name I'm familiar with. You're not from an old family," she said.
"No as far as I'm aware I'm not" I replied calmly
"Yet you act and hold yourself like one." She said with questioning tone
I shrugged, "Miss Mary taught me manners," I said. "Not because I was trying to impress anyone,but to keep me from embarrassing myself."
That, I thought, was a better answer than either denial or pretence.
Daphne inclined her head slightly.
"Practical necessity, then."
"Yes."
"That tends to produce more reliable habits." She said, and something in her voice sounded to me like she was saying something she didn't really understand the meaning of but thought it fit in the situation
Tracy glanced between us, following, if not every layer, then enough to remain engaged.
Hermione kept reading her book, though her page had not changed.
Terry had gone still in the particular way animals do at times when trying to pretend they aren't there.
Daphne continued.
"You worked in the Leaky Cauldron for how long?" She said in more questioning tone reminiscent of Hermione's Scotland Yard style earlier
"A month." I answered easily, no point in hiding something like that anyway.
"Short." She said in same tone eyes more narrow as if I was trying to trick her somehow
"I Would still work there,but I had a prior commitment so I had to leave" I quipped
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement.
Another pause.
Daphne studied me—perhaps searching for weakness,or simply… weighing my worth.
Then—
"You didn't answer fully," she said.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because getting to know people doesn't mean I have to explain myself fully to all who ask."
That, finally, earned something closer to approval from her.
Tracy next to her relaxed slightly again, as though a line had been crossed safely. She was a bit melodramatic although not as much as Daphne was.
Hermione, predictably, did not leave it alone.
"That's a very incomplete answer," she said accusingly to me
"It is," I agreed with a polite smile
"Then why give it?"
"Because it is sufficient." I said simply
"That's not how information works."
"It is," Terry said mildly, without opening his eyes, "when the purpose isn't to inform."
Hermione frowned.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It will," Daphne said.
Hermione made a small, dissatisfied sound and returned to her book with slightly more force than necessary.
Daphne turned back to me.
"You chose your seat before the compartment filled."
"Yes."
"Why this one?"
"It looked cosy" I told honestly
Terry opened one eye briefly.
"Good position," he said like some detective pointing out some clues.
"I thought so." I answered amused by his antics
Daphne nodded once.
I glanced, briefly, around the compartment
Hermione—focused on her book and clearly listening since I haven't heard a page turn in a while.
Terry— looking at everything and everyone like they owe him money, perhaps he meant to look sharp but he somehow blew it.
Tracy—attentive to Daphne and trying to not look like she's not bored to tears but I can almost see the proverbial tear all ready to roll from how she's yawning.
Daphne— was only on who seemed to be focused on me and not acting like she's playing a role she didn't practice for.
Tracy tilted her head slightly.
"So what does that make us, then?" she asked, half curious, half amused. "The faithful five that found each other on our way to adventures?" She said with a mischievous storyteller voice
I chuckled " I believe class mates and traveling companions of chance, are enough don't you? no need to add some epic poetry there."
Hermione looked up
"You can't possibly decide what people are like that quickly."
"No? people do it all the time wether they admit it or not."
"That's hardly better."
I just smiled and shrugged
Outside, the platform had filled completely now.
Voices rose. Doors slammed. Steam thickened into white clouds that curled and vanished against the high glass above.
A whistle sounded somewhere down the length of the train.
Low.
Warning.
Time was nearly up.
Inside the compartment, no one moved, no one needed to.
The introductions had been made and we were just eagerly waiting to get on with the trip each on our own ways.
I leaned back slightly, letting the tension settle into something quieter.
This, I thought, would be the beginning of the rest of my life. The true start.
And for once—I did not feel unprepared.
The whistle sounded again.
Longer this time.
Final.
A subtle shift passed through the train—not movement yet, but the anticipation of it. Conversations faltered. Doors along the corridor slid shut with sharper intent. Outside, last-minute instructions were given with unnecessary urgency.
Then—
A lurch.
Small, but undeniable.
The platform began to move.
Or rather, we did.
The slow glide of departure carried the station past the window in a steady drift of stone, steam, and waving figures. The noise softened as distance took hold, replaced by the rhythmic, gathering motion of the train itself.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Hermione looked up.
"We're actually going," she said, as though to voice out what we all were collectively thinking.
"Yes," Terry said mildly. "That was the general idea."
She ignored him.
After another few seconds, she closed her book decisively.
"I should go," she said. "I'm too nervous to sit still and perhaps someone is in need of a helping hand so might as well."
"Of course," I said.
She gathered her things quickly, then paused.
"Can you keep me a seat if I later need one
"We'll inform anyone trying to claim your seat, " Terry said to her
She nodded, satisfied.
Then she left, the door sliding shut behind her with a click.
Silence followed. Lighter, this time.
Tracy exhaled quietly.
"She's a bit… intense."
"Yes, just a bit" I said.
"She'll do well in any house but Slythering" Daphne added.
"Undoubtedly," Terry murmured.
The train picked up speed.
The platform was gone now, replaced by the outskirts of London—brick and soot giving way, slowly, to something greener.
Time passed.
Not idly.
Just… unremarkably. We didn't talk much, just stared out of the window or daydreamed silently now that the train was actually moving and the waiting part was over.
Then—
Movement in the corridor,more deliberate than before.
Footsteps that slowed near compartments, paused, moved on again.
Searching.
I glanced towards the door as did Daphne.
A moment later, the door slid open without a knock.
A pale boy stood there, posture already arranged into something he likely believed was confidence. His hair was neatly combed, his expression carefully neutral—though not quite successfully so, small arrogant sneer on his lips ruined the rest of his look.
He looked in.
His eyes moved across the compartment quickly—
Tracy.
Terry.
Myself.
Then—
Daphne.
He paused,not long but long enough.
"Greengrass," he said, with a slight incline of the head that attempted formality.
"Malfoy," Daphne replied, equally measured.
So names again.
"I wasn't aware you'd already settled," he said.
"We have," Daphne said.
A faint pause.
He seemed to consider stepping in.
Did not.
His gaze flicked once more through the compartment—assessing, dismissing, searching for something not present.
"I'm looking for someone," he said.
"Yes," Daphne replied not making it easier for him
That was all.
Tracy bit back what looked suspiciously like a smile.
Malfoy continued anyway.
"There are better compartments further down," he added, with the air of someone offering information no one had asked for.
"I'm satisfied with this one," Daphne said.
Another pause.
He shifted his weight slightly.
Attempted recovery.
"You'll be in Slytherin, I expect."
Not a question.
Daphne's expression did not change.
"I expect to be sorted," she said diplomatically without speculating.
Terry made a quiet, choking sound that he disguised as a cough.
I looked out the window and the reflection of them without staring directly.
Tracy looked very carefully at her hands.
Malfoy held his composure.
Mostly.
"Yes," he said. "Well. Naturally."
A beat.
Then, as though remembering his original purpose—
"If you see Potter—"
"We will send an owl post haste," I said politely without turning from the window
Terry barked a quick laugh he tried again a pass as couching
Malfoy ignored him. He glanced at me for the first time.
A brief assessment.
Dismissal followed quickly.
"Right." It seemed he either didn't hear me properly or thought I was a bit mad.
He inclined his head again—less precise this time—and stepped back.
The door slid shut.
Silence.
Tracy let out a small laugh she had clearly been holding in.
"Oh, that was painful."
Terry leaned back slightly eyes watering from holding in his laughter " we send you an owl, that was hilarious"
"Unpolished and rude child mimicking something he doesn't understand" Daphne scoffed dismissively
I said nothing.
Daphne's gaze shifted to me briefly.
"You didn't need to speak."
"No," I agreed.
"Why did you?"
"felt like poking my nose in where it doesn't belong, entirely new experience I assure you" I said with smile
A faint, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of her mouth.
"Well it shut him up faster, so good one."
Outside, the landscape had begun to open.
Fields now.
Green.
Wide.
Uninterested in the small negotiations taking place inside a train full of children pretending, with varying degrees of success, to be something more than they were.
half an hour or maybe longer went by in a comfortable silence.
Tracy and Daphne whispered heads together presumably, to not bother me or Terry who might've fallen asleep eyes open since he was staring at nothing again.
The knock came again.
Quicker this time.
Before anyone could answer, the door slid open and Hermione stepped in—slightly flushed, but composed in the way of someone who had achieved what they set out to do and expected that to be recognized.
"I found it," she announced.
We all looked a bit puzzled.
"Found what?" Tracy asked
A boy stood just behind her, hovering at the threshold as though uncertain whether he was permitted to exist in the same space as the rest of us.
Round-faced. Slightly disheveled. Eyes wide in the particular way of someone who had spent the last half hour convinced something important had been lost forever.
"This is Neville," Hermione added, as though presenting a solved problem.
Neville stepped in hesitantly.
"L-Longbottom," he said, correcting himself automatically. "Neville Longbottom."
Longbottom was one of the older families, if I remember correctly. It was mentioned in one of the books I deemed trash from Scribner's Exchange. So perhaps even trash has it value in right place,
better to introduce myself properly.
I stood.
"Alexander Hawthorn." I said and offered to shake his hand.
He blinked slightly at that, then nodded quickly and remembered to shake mine and not just let me shake his like it's a bell rope I just happened to be yanking to my own amusement.
Hermione noticed.
Of course she did.
"You didn't stand before," she said.
"I didn't need to," I replied and glanced at all the legs between me and the door implying it would be a bit awkward to try and shake his hand while sitting by the window over all these people. Not to mention rude.
Tracy smiled at Neville in a way that eased the moment almost immediately.
"I'm Tracy Davis," she said. "Don't worry, we're not nearly as serious as we look."
Terry glanced at her genuinely surprised
"We aren't?"
She ignored him.
Neville gave her a small, grateful smile. Equally ignoring Terry's stares and sputtering on being ignored
"Hello."
Daphne inclined her head slightly.
"Daphne Greengrass." she said with a calm and slightly distant voice.
Neville shifted his grip on the small toad now cupped carefully in his hands.
"Thank you," he said to Hermione again, as though the gratitude might expire if not repeated.
"Yes, well," Hermione said, brushing it aside. "You should probably keep a better hold on it."
"I will," he said quickly.
"So is this toad what you found Hermione? or Neville or both?" I asked although I was pretty sure about the answer
Hermione looked at me a bit puzzled" What? oh yeah well first Neville who needed to help on finding his toad. Later the Toad so both I suppose."
Hermione glanced between us again, as though trying to categorize the interaction.
"You're all in this compartment?" she asked.
"For now," Terry said.
"Yes," I said. "There are."
She frowned slightly.
"Then why stay here?"
"Because this one is no longer empty."
A pause.
Then—
"Oh."
She considered that.
Then, reluctantly—
"That makes sense."
Daphne's gaze shifted to me briefly.
Not approval.
Recognition.
Neville hovered near the door.
"I should—um—I should probably go back," he said. "Gran said not to wander too much when on the train."
"Sound sensible your gran,it was nice meeting you Neville" Tracy said kindly.
Hermione nodded.
"I'll make sure he gets there," she said, already turning.
Of course she would.
Neville gave a small, awkward wave.
"Nice to meet all of you."
"And you," I said while Terry, Tracy and Daphne all said their goodbyes.
The door slid shut behind them.
Outside, the train pressed on.
Fields stretched wider. The last traces of the city had long since fallen away.
Tracy pulled a magazine out of robes and was reading it while the rest of us seemed to go back to our thoughts and staring at the window.
Well expert Terry whose attention seemed to be in the left upper corner of the compartment and small stain in it. that or he's really sleeping, eyes open.
I went through the Bolt hole spell in my mind over and over, thinking about the issues I might come up later with it and how to solve them
Time, once the train settled into its rhythm, began to move differently. Steadily sure, but I could have sworn it slipped out of its axis a few times and jumped ahead. time that is not the train.
Conversation came and went in short intervals rather than structured exchanges. Tracy spoke occasionally—light things, small observations about the passing countryside. Terry contributed when it suited him. Daphne remained mostly quiet, though not disengaged. She listened more than she spoke. Much like I did.
Hermione passed by once more in the corridor, mid-sentence, clearly still organizing the world into something more reasonable.
At some point, the trolley came.
Sweets were purchased. Chocolate frogs. Cauldron cakes. A small, unnecessary extravagance. Tracy seemed the most openly pleased by it. Terry inspected his frog as though it might reveal something interesting if given enough scrutiny. Daphne accepted hers with measured indifference that lasted precisely until the first bite.
I took less than I could have. Just a liquorice wand to nibble on, although the chocolate frog cards interested me quite a bit I decided to opt out this time at least.
Outside, the landscape changed.
London had long since vanished. Fields stretched wide and open now, broken by hedgerows and the occasional distant structure. The sky deepened gradually toward evening, light softening into gold and then into something cooler.
Soon enough the train started to slow down.
Then fully stopped.
From the outside a voice echoed down the corridor.
"First years! First year to me!"
"Time to go," Terry said, already standing.
Tracy gathered her things quickly.
Daphne rose without haste.
I followed them all, leaving my suitcase on the train.
The corridor was full now—students moving, adjusting, collecting belongings, attempting to look composed while very much not being so.
The door opened to cool air.
Darker now.
Evening.
We stepped down onto a small, dimly lit platform, the ground uneven beneath our feet. Lantern light flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the gathered students.
"First years! Over here!"
A large figure stood ahead, a lantern raised high. Broad. Solid. Impossible to miss.
Due to his size I remembered I had seen him in the Diagon Ally,the first time I was there. He was carrying an owl cage with a snow white owl in it and pushing through the people.
Students gathered.
Away from the train. Away from the last easy certainty of what had come before.
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path.
The air changed—cooler, quieter, heavier with something that felt older than the road beneath our feet.
Voices softened to whispers.
Even the less restrained students seemed to understand, instinctively, that this was not a place for noise.
The path turned, then descended and the trees seemed to vanish as the lake lay before us.
Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. For a moment, I forgot to think.
Which, for me, was rare enough to notice.
It was… impossible.
Not in the sense of magic.
In the sense of scale and presence.
Something that had stood long before I was born and would stand long after I was gone, entirely indifferent to both facts.
Around me, students murmured. Some in awe. Some in disbelief. Some simply because silence felt too large to hold comfortably.
I said nothing.
There was nothing useful to say.
The lake reflected the castle perfectly, light trembling slightly in the water as if reality itself required a second attempt to contain it.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.
I stepped in the nearest boat without looking away from the magnificent castle and soon Terry was sitting next to me. I heard Tracy and Daphne behind me whisper in awe.
Soon everyone was in the boats
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
This, I thought—
Not the train.
Not the Alley.
Not the books.
This was the beginning.
I stood there, watching the castle across the dark water, and felt something settle into place with quiet certainty.
I am home.