Holding that unique wand, Stelle felt a strange sense of harmony, as if the stick was naturally meant to be in her hand—much like a baseball bat, its primary function being to smack things, and casting spells merely secondary.
She even gave it an offhand swing to feel the swish of air, nodding in satisfaction.
Next was Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
When the automatic tape measure tried to wrap around Stelle’s waist, she reached back and snatched it, forcing it to complete its work quietly like taming an unruly snake.
Along the way, she even tried to tie the tape measure into a knot, but Madam Malkin stopped her just in time.
Madam Malkin marveled at the sight.
“I’ve never seen a child manage to subdue it like that!” At Flourish and Blotts, Stelle calmly accepted the heavy stack of textbooks.
While Professor McGonagall turned to pay, Stelle swiftly pulled out *One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi*, precisely flipping to the page on the Venomous Tentacula to study it intently.
She was deeply absorbed, her small head almost buried in the book, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the contours of the vicious illustration.
McGonagall turned back just in time, quietly stuffing the book back into Stelle’s arms and handing her *A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration*.
“I believe you should start with turning matchsticks into needles,” McGonagall said in an unquestionable tone.
Stelle looked at *A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration*, then at the confiscated herbology book.
She let out a small sigh, but obediently hugged the new book.
One by one, items on the shopping list were checked off.
Finally, they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium.
Owls hooted, cats elegantly licked their paws, and toads stared blankly inside glass tanks.
“Child,” Professor McGonagall said, “you need to choose a pet.
An owl, a cat, or a toad.” Stelle’s gaze swept over the shop, landing on a particularly plump owl that looked like it could be made into a large pot of stew.
Seeming to sense something, the owl took a terrified step back, its feathers flaring out.
She shook her head and said to McGonagall, “No need.
I don’t write letters.” She paused, thinking of Owlbert in her mind, then added a reason that caused McGonagall’s pupils to dilate in shock: “Besides, in an emergency, they look like emergency rations.” Professor McGonagall: “!!!” Her mouth opened as if to deliver a lecture on caring for living creatures, but seeing Stelle’s completely innocent eyes, she took a deep breath and held her forehead.
“Very well.
Suit yourself.” She felt a dull throb in her temples.
Beside them, Dumbledore popped a Lemon Drop into his mouth with a beaming smile, looking for all the world like he was watching a delightful play.
He even winked at Stelle, as if to say, “An interesting perspective.” With that, shopping was complete.
Sunlight washed over Diagon Alley in a warm golden hue.
McGonagall checked the list once more and gave a slight nod.
“Timing is just right,” she said, putting away the parchment in her usual pragmatic tone.
“Today is September first.
The Hogwarts Express leaves King’s Cross Station at precisely eleven o’clock.
We must hurry.” Stelle blinked.
She instantly understood why Diagon Alley was even livelier today than expected, and why McGonagall had been acting so efficiently—she, a transfer student, was checking in right at the deadline.
“So,” Dumbledore said, “how shall we travel to King’s Cross Station?
Minerva, if you take the child through the Floo Network—” “Walk,” Stelle said immediately.
“Walk?” McGonagall looked at Stelle’s stack of luggage.
“It’s quite a distance.” Stelle nodded, pointing down the street.
“I need to log terrain data.
It’s standard Trailblaze procedure.” (Though it really wasn’t.) “And what if I need to make a run for it later?” As she spoke, she was already pushing her luggage cart forward on her own, looking ready to set off immediately.
Dumbledore let out a merry chuckle.
“A very forward-thinking plan.
Minerva, it seems we must accompany this little Trailblazer on a terrain survey.” Professor McGonagall: “…” She felt her blood pressure rising.
Yet looking at the old man and the young girl, then at the time on her pocket watch, she silently adjusted her pointed hat, sighed inwardly, and conceded.
“Fine, but we must quicken our pace,” she emphasized.
“No running, no rubbernecking, and stay close.” …
King’s Cross Station on September first was bustling with crowds.
Stelle stood amidst the bustling crowd at King’s Cross Station, looking up at the large sign—King’s Cross Station.
*What a strange name,* she thought to herself.
*Sounds like some ancient dueling ground.* She instinctively touched her unique wand.
Following McGonagall, her eyes came to rest between Platforms 9 and 10.
When handed the ticket that read Platform 9¾, Stelle’s usually expressionless eyes widened slightly.
Three-quarters?
Looking at the fraction, she felt her brain undergoing a mild challenge.
It defied common sense entirely, yet in a world where trash bins could serve as teleportation portals, it seemed completely natural.
Pointing at the dividing wall between Platforms 9 and 10, McGonagall sternly explained the secret to passing through: “Most importantly, do not hesitate or fear.
Concentrate on wanting to walk through.” Stelle looked at the wall, then watched a red-haired family expertly disappear into it.
She nodded, then proceeded to do something that nearly caused McGonagall’s heart to stop—instead of walking right through, she reached out and gingerly poked the wall.
Solid.
She pulled her hand back thoughtfully.
Then, amidst McGonagall’s startled gasp of “Don’t do that!”, she charged headfirst toward the wall, stopping mere inches short at the last moment to test its physical hardness.
“I see,” Stelle realized, coming to a conclusion.
“It requires speed.” She paid no attention to McGonagall’s pale face.
The next second, under McGonagall’s intense gaze—looking ready to draw her wand and fling her through directly—Stelle took a few steps back, took a running start, and dashed forward with a desperate momentum like she meant to smash through the wall— Her figure vanished smoothly.
Stelle stood firmly on the platform on the other side, looking back at the wall with a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Fascinating.” She patted off non-existent dust from her clothes.
“Just not very subtle.” On this side of the wall, the Hogwarts Express belching white steam caught her attention.
It rested quietly beside the platform, white steam floating up like clouds toward the high glass dome.
Looking at the red train, Stelle froze for a moment.
A red…
train.
The somewhat familiar color and shape couldn’t help but remind her of the Astral Express that had carried her across multiple worlds.
Though the train before her was steam-powered and looked ancient, while the Astral Express was a technological wonder capable of sailing through the cosmos, the shared identity of being a train stirred a strange sense of nostalgia within her.
Amidst the swirling steam, she could almost picture Pom-Pom inspecting equipment in the train car, hear March 7th excitedly pointing out the window, and see Dan Heng sitting quietly in a corner reading a book…
A feeling akin to yearning brushed gently against her heart like a feather.
However, the feeling quickly faded, and she reverted to her usual self.
She shook her head, tossing that brief moment of sentimentality behind her.
Then, pushing her little cart, her eyes began scanning the chattering students on the platform and their bulging luggage…
Hogwarts life, it seemed, was destined not to be quiet.