1st September, 1991. The start of term at Hogwarts.
Every young Witch and Wizard across Britain would arrive at Hogwarts Castle today, attend that evening's Welcome Feast, and begin their year of magical study.
And today was likewise the day Bernadette was to take Vincent's place and begin teaching at Hogwarts.
She was up early, padding to the washroom in her slippers, where she went about her morning routine with unhurried familiarity — using the toilet, washing her face, tidying the stubble on her chin. She had grown accustomed to the male body by now, though she still had no particular fondness for facial hair.
Breakfast was a simple fry-up of eggs and bacon. She brewed herself a cup of goji berry tea, secured the lid, and tucked it into the luggage she'd packed the night before. A final check to confirm nothing had been left behind — then she took up the staff, the only wand capable of casting Lumos, and stepped out of the door.
The cab ride to King's Cross Station took just over an hour. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"
Bernadette studied her ticket and worked her way along the platform signs until she found the barrier between platforms nine and ten. According to Vincent's notes, all you had to do was walk directly through the barrier — and you'd arrive at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the Hogwarts Express was waiting.
She approached slowly, reached out a hand, and stepped through. She simply passed through it and vanished from sight. Dozens of passers-by moved around the area, and not one of them so much as glanced in her direction. A Muggle-Repelling Charm, reinforced with some kind of illusion magic?
Still turning the thought over, she walked on — and in the space of a single blink, the world transformed entirely. A brilliant scarlet locomotive sat beside the platform, its running board bearing the sign: HOGWARTS EXPRESS, 11 O'CLOCK.
She looked back. Where the barrier had been, there now stood a wrought-iron archway, bearing the inscription: PLATFORM 9¾.
The platform hummed with activity. Robed travellers moved in all directions — some boarding, others seeing family off. For a moment, it felt uncannily like standing on a railway platform somewhere in the Kingdom of Leon.
Because this train — proud enough to call itself an "express" — was in fact an old steam locomotive, very similar to the trains of her own world. The station's style was unmistakably Leon in character.
The difference was that cats of every possible colour and marking darted between people's feet everywhere she looked, and owls of all sizes perched or swooped here and there, calling to one another in shrill, discordant voices. It was all faintly peculiar.
Bernadette smiled quietly to herself and made her way onto the train.
She had arrived on the early side. Most of the compartments were still empty, and she chose one midway along, stowed her luggage, and settled by the window. She watched the young Witches and wizards outside — faces bright with excitement and nerves — waving goodbye to their families before climbing aboard.
When would that child arrive? Would his aunt and uncle even bother bringing him to the station? She thought of how Harry had faltered the night before when he'd come to say goodbye — clearly wanting to ask her to see him off, but never quite managing to say the words.
He had no idea, of course, that Mr. Vincent would be accompanying him to Hogwarts. As a professor, no less.
"Waaah!"
A child's crying broke out.
Somewhere along the carriage, a young girl — probably leaving home for the first time — had started to weep. The children nearby had attempted to comfort her, but the moment she wailed "We'll never see our mums and dads again!", the whole group burst into tears together.
The carriage descended into cheerful chaos.
"Hey!"
Two identically freckled, red-haired boys leapt in through the door. One held a fistful of brightly coloured sweets. "First time in the wizarding world? Have one of these — guaranteed to surprise you!"
The other pulled a face, and from his mouth came an endless stream of enormous bubbles — radiant, iridescent, floating up and drifting outward until they filled the entire compartment.
Several children gaped. Two of them were so mesmerised that they forgot to keep crying. They looked from the bubbles to the red-haired boy's mouth and back again, trying to work out whether he was hiding a bubble machine behind his teeth.
"Come on, come on. Can't just watch, that's no fun."
After a moment of hesitation, the children cautiously accepted pieces of the bubblegum and chewed. Very quickly, whether they had been crying or not, every single one of them was blowing bubbles — mouths working without pause.
"Got 'em!"
The twins high-fived in delight, celebrating their successful suppression of the disturbance.
Their celebration was brief. One of them suddenly bellowed, "Leg it — our Prefect's coming!"
The two of them shot out through the compartment door. A few seconds later a red-haired boy in black robes came jogging past, a silver Prefect badge on his chest.
He looked at a carriage full of bubbles, and a carriage full of wide-eyed children still industriously producing more, and shouted furiously after the retreating twins: "George! Fred! Look at what you've done!"
The twins waved two fingers each as they ran. "Just doing our part, Prefect."
"Oh, for the love of—"
The Gryffindor Prefect pressed a hand to his forehead and ushered the little Witches and wizards toward him. "I'm the Gryffindor Prefect for this year. Everyone come with me — I'll figure out how to get you sorted."
And so the small Witches and wizards formed a bobbing, bubble-blowing procession and walked off toward the front of the train. The two nearby carriages soon fell quiet again. Only the drifting iridescent spheres remained as evidence of what had happened.
Bernadette had just taken out a book called Seeing Magic Through Magical Power when someone knocked on the compartment window. She looked up.
An elderly woman stood outside — stout, wearing a vulture taxidermy hat atop her head and carrying a large red handbag. She was smiling and waving.
Bernadette hesitated, then pushed the window open.
"Oh, how wonderful," the old woman said warmly. "Vincent, it does my heart good to see you come through that dark time."
Bernadette was at a loss. Vincent's notes contained no mention of this woman. She didn't know who she was, what her relationship to "Vincent" might be, or what tone to take with her.
She could feel the warmth in the old woman's manner, though. So she simply said, "Thank you."
"If only Frank and Alice could have come through it the same way — as strong as you have." The old woman sighed. "When I heard you'd become a Hogwarts professor, I could scarcely believe it. And how old are you now?"
"Twenty-one."
"Such a young professor. Oh, you poor dear — making your way to where you are now, entirely on your own, step by step. You must have gone through so much. You're a finer person than your father and mother ever were, and if they could see what you've accomplished today, they would be so proud of you."
Father and mother…
No wonder Vincent's notes had said nothing about his parents. From what this old woman was saying, they were likely long gone — and he had been left an orphan at an early age.
Another orphan.
Then the woman's expression sharpened without warning. She looked sharply to one side and said sternly, "Neville! Get on the train this instant. What are you wandering about for?"
A round-faced, slightly vacant-looking boy startled and hunched his shoulders. "I… I think I've lost my wand."
To be continued…