Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 12: Hogwarts Express
Harry dressed quickly, before performing another check on his luggage, making sure that he wasn't forgetting anything.
"Wand, robes, books..."
Vesper clicked his beak.
"Yes, I will not forget about you, I promise." Said Harry, giving the owl a side glance. "Okay...I think I have everything."
He made sure to keep his robes and wand inside a handbag that he could carry around, so he could easily access them and get changed before arriving at the school.
Once he felt satisfied with the arrangements, he went downstairs.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Petunia had made a full English breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, and grilled tomatoes that she kept piling food onto Harry's plate long after he had stopped being hungry.
"You need your strength," she said, her voice sounding a bit brittle. "It is going to be a long trip, and I dont know what kind of food you'll be getting in that school."
Vernon sat at the head of the table, reading his newspaper, but Harry noticed he hadn't turned a page in ten minutes. Dudley pushed his food around his plate, not eating, his eyes fixed on Harry.
No one said much. There wasn't much to say.
When the clock struck eight, Harry pushed back his chair and stood up.
"I should get going, dont want to miss the train," he said.
Petunia nodded, her lips pressed together. She rose and fetched his trunk from the hallway. Vernon had carried it down earlier, and together they loaded it into the car.
Vesper's cage went in the back seat, the owl blinking sleepily at the sudden activity.
The drive to King's Cross Station was silent. Harry watched London crawl past the window...the red buses, the black taxis, the crowds of ordinary people living ordinary lives. He wondered if any of them knew about the magical world hidden just out of sight. Probably not...probably that was safer for everyone.
Vernon found a parking space near the station, and they unloaded the trunk onto a trolley.
Petunia pushed it, her knuckles white on the handle.
Dudley walked beside Harry, close enough that their shoulders touched.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," Harry said, reading the ticket again. "We need to find the wall between platforms nine and ten."
They walked through the crowded station, past families hugging and laughing, past tourists dragging suitcases, past a group of schoolchildren on a trip. It all felt so normal...
Then they reached the wall in question.
It looked like a plain brick wall between two platforms. But even without his outerworldy knoledge telling him that he could cross by just walking into it, Harry could feel something different about it. There was a faint shimmer in the air, like when heat is rising off the asphalt on a hot summer day.
He wondered if the original Harry Potter could also see this. It was hard to miss.
"This is it," he said.
Petunia's face went pale. "Harry… are you sure?"
"I'll be fine," he said, though he could not be 100% sure until he actually tried. He took a deep breath, gripped the handle of the trolley, and walked straight at the wall.
He never touched the bricks. Instead, he passed through them like mist, emerging on the other side and into a scene that made his heart sink.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was not the bustling, joyful place that was described in the stories.
It was quiet... eerily so.
The platform was gloomy, lit by dim overhead lamps that cast more shadows than light. A train stood at the platform, the Hogwarts Express. It was painted scarlet and gold, but its colours seemed muted, as if someone had added a grey filter over it.
Steam hissed from beneath the engine, curling into the cold air and forming ghostly fingers.
Children stood in well-organized small groups with their families, but there was no laughter, cheers, or cries. No existing chatter either. Parents spoke in low, urgent whispers while gripping their children's shoulders.
Students clutched their trunks with white-knuckled hands and tense faces.
Some of them wore the school robes while others were in Muggle clothing, like Harry. But all of them looked nervous.
Harry pushed his trolley forward and saw Petunia, Duddley, and Vernon appear behind him.
"Harry," Petunia breathed. "What is th-"
Before Harry could answer, a voice barked from his left.
"You there. Stop."
A man was striding towards them...tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark uniform that looked more military than magical. A silver badge gleamed on his chest, bearing the words: Auror – Ministry of Magic.
His face was hard, and his eyes cold. His hand rested on something at his belt...a wand, Harry realised, but also something else. A short, black baton.
Harry stopped immediately after hearing that voice. His heart was beating hard in his chest.
The auror reached them and looked down at Harry with an expression of bored authority.
"Name?" he demanded.
"Harry Potter."
The auror's eyes flickered with recognition, but his face remained impassive. He pulled a long parchment from his pocket, unrolled it, and ran his finger down the list.
"Age?"
"Eleven."
"Date of birth?"
"July thirty-first."
The auror nodded, making a small tick on the parchment. Then he looked past Harry at Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley. His eyes narrowed.
"And these are?"
"My aunt, uncle, and cousin," Harry said. "I live with them. They came here t-"
"Muggles," the auror interrupted him while he studied Petunia and Vernon for a moment.
The Durleys tried to stand their ground, but they were obviously startled by the whole interaction.
The auror made a note on his parchment. Then he looked back at Harry, his cold eyes boring into him.
"Are you not aware of the rules, Mister Potter?. Muggles are not allowed on this side of the platform."
Harry blinked. "What?, but..."
"This will cost you a credit point...not a good start, Mister Potter." The auror spoke in a cold tone, giving the Durlesy a harsh glare. "Say your goodbyes and leave this place, muggles." He shifted his attention to Harry. "And make sure this doesnt happen again, Mister Potter. Next time, you will lose more than a single point."
Harry had no idea what those points were, but this did not sound good.
Petunia reacted quickly. She hugged him fiercely, her face buried in his shoulder. "Write to us," she whispered. "Please."
"I will," he promised.
Vernon shook his hand with a firm grip. "Be careful out there, boy."
Dudley hugged him too, crushing him against his broad chest. "Come back," Dudley said, his voice muffled. "For Christmas. You have to come back."
"I will," Harry said again, though he wasn't sure it was a promise he could keep.
Once his family was gone, he turned to look at the auror, who had not moved from the spot, as if he was waiting to make sure that the muggles left the station.
Then, he glanced at him again.
"Are you at least aware of the other regulations?. No magic outside Hogwarts. No contact with unauthorised magical persons, no possession of restricted materials. Any violation will result in immediate punishment, up to and including expulsion and memory modification of your Muggle relatives."
Harry swallowed. "I understand."
"Good." The auror rolled up his parchment and tucked it back into his pocket. "The train departs in exactly...thirteen minutes. Do not delay and keep your voice to an appropriate level when talking to others. Any student who causes a delay will be disciplined."
He turned around and walked away, his long leather boots clicking on the cobblestones.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.
He looked around the platform again. Now he understood the tension, the silence, the fear. This wasn't a joyful departure...it looked more like a conscription.
The goodbyes were quick and quiet.
He loaded his trunk onto the train, secured Vesper's cage in a luggage rack near the door, and climbed aboard.
<><><><><><><><><><>
He heard the train producing a long mournful whistling sound as he walked down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment.
Most of them were already full. He passed groups of students sitting in tense silence, their eyes downcast. A few whispered to each other, but the whispers stopped when he walked by, replaced by wary glances.
He kept walking, past the middle of the train, past the crowded compartments, until he reached the very end.
The last compartment was empty.
Harry slid open the door and stepped inside, relief flooding through him.
He set his handbag down on the seat beside him and leaned his head against the window, watching the last students boarding the train. It will begin to move soon.
For a couple of blessed minutes, he was alone.
Then the door slid open.
A girl stood in the doorway. She was about his age, with shoulder-length black hair that fell in messy waves around her pale face. Her eyes were pitch black and wide. She wore school robes, but they seemed a bit too large for her and had the sleeves rolled up at the cuffs.
"I thought I saw someone entering this compartment..."She looked at Harry, then at the empty compartment, then at the corridor outside, and finally back at Harry.
"Do you have permission to be in here?" she asked, her voice low and hurried.
Harry blinked. "Permission? What do you mean?"
"I figured that much..."
The girl glanced over her shoulder, down the corridor, then she gestured at him with her hand. "You need to leave, and quickly..." she said. "Before they come."
"Who?"
"The Weasleys, of course." The girl's voice dropped to a whisper, as if saying the name aloud might summon them. "This is their private compartment. They always sit here. Every year. If they find you her-"
"What are you doing here?"
"Are you lost, little one?"
Harry heard the voices coming from outside the compartment. They sounded both cheerful and cruel, somehow.
The girl's already pale face went completely white. Her hands trembled.
Before Harry could think, he slid the door open and stepped into the corridor.
Three boys stood there, blocking the way. They were tall and red-haired, with freckled faces and cold, mocking eyes.
Harry knew exactly who these were. Their faces were just as he had imagined, even before watching the movies.
The twins...Fred and George flanked a younger boy with a stocky build and a mean smirk...Ron Weasley.
However, these versions of the Weasleys were very well dressed. With brand new black cloaks made of the finest acromantula silk and leather shoes that seem to shine with a light of their own.
But the worst part was their facial expression. The moment he saw them, Harry felt his stomach turn.
"Well, well," one of the twins said...Fred, perhaps. "A stowaway in our compartment."
"And she brought a friend," the other twin added, his eyes sliding to Harry. "How generous."
Ron stepped forward, looking Harry up and down. "You're in our seats. Both of you."
"It was a mistake...we were just leaving," the girl whispered, backing against the wall.
"Leaving?" Ron laughed. It was a harsh, unpleasant sound. "After you've already breathed on our cushions? I don't think so."
Harry's jaw tightened. He stepped between Ron and the unknown girl.
"It's an empty compartment," he said, keeping his voice steady. "No one's name was on the door."
The twins exchanged amused glances. Ron's smirk widened.
"Everyone knows this commitment belongs to our family. I have been that way for a very long time."
"Those are some bold words for a newbie," Ron stepped forward and puffed his chest. "What's your name?"
"Harry Potter."
Silence. The twins' eyes flickered with recognition.
Ron's smirk faltered for just a moment. "Potter?. You are James Potter's son?."
The black-haired girl turned her head to look at him. She appears to be as surprised as the other three.
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