After bidding Hagrid farewell, Harry stayed temporarily at the Leaky Cauldron. Each day was spent either reading books or practicing magic from his textbooks. Time passed quickly, and soon it was September 1st.
At 9:30 a.m., Harry arrived at King's Cross Station by taxi. However, when he followed the instructions on his school admission letter to find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he stood between Platforms Nine and Ten, glancing left and right, before tapping the solid concrete wall in front of him with a puzzled expression.
"Could this be some sort of test? A way to determine if the person trying to enter has magical abilities?"
Thinking this, Harry placed his hand on the wall again, focusing intently to sense its magic. Soon, he detected an active magical formation within the wall. Concentrating his magic at his fingertips, Harry traced the formation on the concrete wall.
As he completed the final stroke, an iron archway suddenly materialized in the concrete.
"So, that's all it takes—just tracing the detected formation. Pretty simple," Harry nodded in satisfaction at the newly appeared archway, then dragged his luggage through it.
Behind him, ordinary passersby noticed the new platform that had appeared between Platforms Nine and Ten. Many stopped in their tracks, curious. Those not in a hurry even walked through the archway, only to be astounded by the scene before them.
Steam from the locomotive swirled above the bustling crowd. Cats of various colors wove through people's legs. Among the hum of conversations and the clatter of heavy luggage being dragged, owls hooted loudly, calling back and forth. Nearly everyone was dressed in robes, giving the scene an air of a nineteenth-century medieval village. The steady clicks of camera shutters filled the air.
Meanwhile, Harry sat quietly in a compartment, absorbed in a book.
As he read The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and practiced wand movements, the door to his compartment slid open.
A boy with flaming red hair stepped in.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the seat across from Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head, and the boy sat down. He cast a quick glance at Harry before turning to look out the window, pretending not to notice him. Harry observed a smudge of dirt on the boy's nose.
"Hey, Ron."
The door opened again, and a pair of twins with matching red hair walked in.
"Listen, we're off to the middle car—Lee Jordan's got a huge tarantula!"
"Oh," the boy called Ron mumbled.
"Hello there, mate," said one of the twins to Harry. "We're Fred and George Weasley, and this is Ron, our little brother. And you are?"
"Harry," Harry replied.
"Well, Harry and Ron, see you later!" The twins waved, then left the compartment, sliding the door shut behind them.
"Bye," Harry and Ron said in turn.
"Harry, you know, the Boy Who Lived is also named Harry. Supposedly, he's starting school this year too. Wonder which compartment he's in—I'd love to see what he looks like," Ron blurted out.
Harry paused his reading and looked up at the excited red-haired boy.
"Did you grow up in the wizarding world?" Harry asked.
"Oh, yes," Ron replied. "My whole family's magical. Well, except for a distant cousin of my mum's who's an accountant, but we never talk about him. What about you, Harry?"
"My parents died because of Voldemort. I used to stay with my aunt and uncle, but now I live alone."
"Ah, sorry—I didn't mean to bring up anything sad," Ron stammered, clearly flustered upon learning Harry was an orphan.
"It's fine. It happened decades ago," Harry said calmly. With no real memory of his parents, their deaths didn't weigh heavily on him. After all, emotional bonds are built over time.
"Decades ago?" Ron frowned. "Harry, aren't you only eleven?"
"Ah, slip of the tongue," Harry quickly covered, scratching his head. "By the way, Fred and George are your brothers, right? So, you're the third child in your family?"
"I'm not the third—I'm the sixth," Ron replied, looking slightly annoyed.
The red-haired boy prattled on about his family but seemed to catch himself and turned to gaze out the window instead.
Harry, unfazed by the fact that he couldn't afford an owl, thought back to a time not long ago when he had been penniless himself. He shared with Ron stories about life at the Dursleys', including wearing his cousin's hand-me-downs, never receiving proper birthday presents, and being ordered around as if it were perfectly normal. Harry noticed that as he spoke, Ron's mood seemed to lift.
"You know, Harry, when you mentioned You-Know-Who's name earlier, it really startled me," Ron said, his tone now admiring. "My dad says only people who truly aren't afraid of him can say his name so casually."
"Saying his name doesn't mean I'm brave," Harry shrugged. "I just never knew it wasn't supposed to be said. You see what I mean? There's still a lot I need to learn."
As they chatted, the train sped out of London, racing past fields dotted with sheep and cattle. Gazing at the rolling countryside, the two boys fell into a comfortable silence, watching the scenery blur past the window.
The rhythmic clatter of the train filled the compartment as Harry resumed reading, attempting to transfigure a button, while Ron lay sprawled on the seat, playing with his pet rat, Scabbers.
By noon, the sound of wheels rolling down the corridor, accompanied by the excited chatter of young wizards, reached their compartment.
Soon, a smiling woman with dimples opened their door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Harry, his stomach rumbling after a morning of practicing spells, stood up eagerly. "Can I see what you've got?"
Ron's ears turned red as he mumbled something about having sandwiches.
Looking at the trolley filled with unfamiliar snacks, Harry examined the labels: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and Liquorice Wands…
Finally, Harry, unbothered by the cost, bought a little of everything. After handing the trolley witch eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts, he returned to the compartment, arms full of snacks.
Ron stared wide-eyed as Harry dumped the mountain of food onto the seat.
"Hungry?" Ron asked, swallowing hard.
"Starving," Harry replied, unwrapping a pumpkin pasty and taking a bite.
"Mmm, not bad."
Ron opened a paper bag containing four sandwiches. Pulling one out, he muttered, "She always forgets I hate corned beef."
Harry glanced at Ron, then offered, "Hey, Ron, mind if I trade you for one of those sandwiches? I'll give you a pasty."
"You won't like it—it's too dry," Ron said, glancing at the pasty but quickly looking away. "Mum had to make food for all of us, so the sandwiches aren't that great."
"But I've never had a sandwich before," Harry fibbed. "Come on, satisfy my curiosity. Deal?"
At Harry's insistence, Ron blushed but agreed to swap food. Bowing his head, he began eating the pasty, while Harry bit into the sandwich, contentedly munching away.
As for Harry, the sandwiches naturally ended up in his mouth. Though they were a bit salty, it was still far better than those days in Faerûn when they were so poor they had to scavenge hard, stale bread from the corpses of their enemies. Even the worst sandwich was better than that, right?
"What are these?" After finishing four sandwiches and feeling mostly full, Harry picked up a packet of Chocolate Frogs and asked Ron, "They're not real frogs, are they?"
"No," Ron replied. "Take a look at the cards inside. I'm still missing Agrippa."
"What?"
"Oh, you probably wouldn't know. Each Chocolate Frog comes with a collectible card featuring a famous witch or wizard. I've collected nearly 500 cards, but I'm still missing Agrippa and Ptolemy."
Harry opened a Chocolate Frog and pulled out the card.
On it was the face of a man with half-moon glasses, a long crooked nose, and silver hair and beard cascading down his chest. The name at the bottom read: Albus Dumbledore.
Harry flipped the card over and read the text on the back:
Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, widely recognized as the greatest wizard of modern times. His notable achievements include the 1945 defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work in alchemy in partnership with Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.
Harry turned the card back over, only to find that Dumbledore's face had vanished.
"Magic stuff is really something," Harry said with a laugh, pocketing the Dumbledore card. "In the non-magical world, people in photos stay put once they've been captured."
"Really? So they just freeze in place?" Ron mused, stroking his chin. "That's fascinating. But wouldn't holding the same pose forever be exhausting?—Ah, another Morgana card. I already have six of her. Here, you can have this one, Harry. You can start your own collection."
After eating a few Chocolate Frogs, Harry opened a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
"Be careful with those," Ron warned. "When they say 'every flavor,' they mean it. You'll get the usual ones like chocolate, mint, and marmalade, but there's also spinach, liver, and tripe. George once found one that tasted like bogies."
Ron picked up a green bean, examined it, and nibbled cautiously.
"Lucky—this one's bean sprout flavor."
The bag of beans quickly emptied. Harry tried flavors like toast, coconut, strawberry, curry, grass, and sardine. He even bravely bit into a peculiar gray bean that Ron wouldn't touch—it turned out to be pepper-flavored.
Before they realized it, the fields outside the train windows transformed from neat farmlands into clusters of woods, winding rivers, and dark green hills.
"Looks like we're far from the city now," Harry remarked, tossing an unidentifiable candy into his mouth as he gazed at the scenery.
Ron didn't respond. He was too busy wrestling a Licorice Wand out of Scabbers' mouth.
Just then, someone knocked on their compartment door.
A round-faced boy they didn't recognize stepped in, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Excuse me," he said, sniffling. "Have you seen my toad?"
Harry and Ron shook their heads, and the boy burst into tears.
"I've lost him again! He keeps trying to run away from me!"
"Don't worry, you'll find him," Harry comforted him.
"I hope so," the boy said miserably. "I'm in compartment 117. If you see him, could you bring him to me?"
He turned to leave, but Harry stopped him.
"Hey, I've got an idea to help you find him faster. But…it might cost you a little."
Twenty minutes later, a group of excited boys arrived at their compartment, proudly holding the round-faced boy's toad.
"We're here to claim the reward!" The boys crowded the doorway, their eager eyes darting between Neville, Harry, and Ron.
Harry patted Neville on the shoulder, while Neville, thrilled to have his toad Trevor back, handed over a silver sickle.
"Smart thinking!" A girl sitting nearby glanced at Harry, her eyes full of challenge.
The girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger. She had a neat, clean look, thick brown hair, and large front teeth like a rabbit's. Wearing her Hogwarts robes, she had apparently followed Neville into their compartment. According to Neville, she had encouraged him to search compartment by compartment for Trevor, though her suggestion seemed a bit rigid compared to Harry's method.
Sensing the competitive energy radiating from the girl, Harry quietly shifted a little further away.
Having nothing else to do, Harry began practicing Transfiguration on a Bertie Bott's bean. But he soon noticed the competitive aura around Hermione intensifying.
What is this all about? Harry rubbed his forehead in exasperation. He was just trying to get ahead with some extra magic practice—why did it feel like the girl next to him was gearing up for a duel?
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