August 31st came faster than Hall expected.
The Burrow was chaos — Mum darting between rooms, Dad trying to fix a muggle plug that had inexplicably turned into a teapot, and Ron sobbing into Hall's suitcase.
"I don't want you to go!" Ron's voice was muffled by the folds of Hall's spare robes. "We've never been apart!"
"We're twins, Ron. Not conjoined."
"I don't care!" Ron made a genuine attempt to climb into the suitcase. Hall had to physically peel him off.
"Mate. Breathe. We're going to the same school. We'll see each other at the station tomorrow."
Ron's tear-streaked face went blank. "What?"
Hall froze.
Right. He doesn't know I'm coming.
"Nothing. Just... you know. In my letters. I'll write every day."
Ron sniffled, satisfied, and went back to crying into the suitcase.
Mum appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. She pinched Ron's ear — gently, by Weasley standards — and pulled him off the luggage. "Ronald Weasley, let your brother pack. You'll see him at Christmas."
"But Mum—"
"Christmas. Now go help your father before he blows up the kitchen."
Ron shuffled out, casting one last dramatic look over his shoulder.
Hall watched him go and let himself smile. Just a little.
Wait until he sees me on the train.
The next morning arrived with a heavy sky.
September 1st.
King's Cross Station was heaving. Muggles rushed past each other with suitcases and briefcases, oblivious to the stream of robed families slipping through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten.
Hall had done this before — taking older brothers to school, watching from the muggle side while they disappeared through the brick wall. This time, he walked straight through.
The Hogwarts Express sat steaming on the track, a magnificent scarlet locomotive against the grey London platform. Students milled about. Parents gave last-minute instructions. Owls hooted from cages. Cats yowled.
Hall found a quiet spot against a pillar and set down his case. Time to test the system.
He concentrated. The Disguise Mage ability activated with a faint pulse behind his eyes — like pressing a warm coin against his forehead. When he opened his eyes, he had Henry William's face.
He checked his reflection in the train window. The face was right, but the body was still his — same height, same build. The A-Rank version couldn't change proportions. Good enough.
Let's see if it holds up under scrutiny.
He popped open his homemade suitcase, revealing a stack of neatly printed books. "Welcome to the Wizarding World" — volume one, compiled from everything he remembered about magical Britain. A comprehensive guide for muggle-raised students who'd never seen a wand, let alone a Niffler.
"Limited edition! First print run!" he called out. "Everything you need to know about wizarding life, habits, food, and entertainment! Don't start your first year unprepared!"
A small girl in brand-new robes tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mummy, can I have one?"
The mother flipped through a few pages, eyebrows climbing. The content was surprisingly thorough. "How much?"
Hall did a quick assessment — Gilderoy Lockhart photo pendant on her handbag. Lockhart's books cost a fortune. She had money.
"One Galleon."
She handed it over without hesitation.
He sold five more copies in the next twenty minutes. Prices varied by customer — ten Sickles for the modest-looking families, up to a Galleon for the ones who looked like they hadn't carried their own money in years.
It wasn't a fortune, but it was seed capital. More importantly, the disguise was working. Nobody so much as glanced twice.
"WHAT IS THIS?"
Hall's heart stopped.
A mop of red hair appeared in his peripheral vision. Ron. Staring at his book stall with the intense curiosity of a child who'd never seen a con before.
Relax. He doesn't know it's you.
"Welcome to the Wizarding World?" Ron read the cover aloud.
George and Fred materialized behind him like red-haired wolves. "Ron, mate, you don't need that. You've got us."
"I was just looking," Ron muttered, trying to squirm free. "Let me go."
"You know," George said, leaning in close to Hall's face, "you look familiar."
Hall kept his voice steady. "Maybe I've got one of those faces."
"Feels familiar," Fred added, squinting. "Really familiar."
They can't know. The disguise works. Stay calm.
"GEORGE. FRED. RON."
Mum's voice cut across the platform like a howler. She was waving from further down, surrounded by trunks and a very confused owl.
"Coming, Mum!" they chorused.
Fred gave Hall a mock salute. "See you at Hogwarts then."
They dragged Ron off, still protesting. Hall let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The disguise works. Even on family.
The only test left was the big one.
Dumbledore.
The train whistle blew. Students scrambled aboard. Hall grabbed his case and slipped through the crowd, brushing past the Weasley family as he boarded.
"Percy, George, Fred, Ron — hurry up!"
"Guess which one's George and which one's Fred!"
"Guess which one's George and which one's Fred!"
The compartment door slid shut behind him. Hall found an empty compartment, stowed his case, and sat by the window as the train lurched forward.
London fell away. The countryside opened up.
One down. Seven years to go.