September 1st, 1993
The morning sky over London was a cool grey, brushed with streaks of pale gold where the sun had begun to break through the clouds. A light breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves and chimney smoke, brushing gently against coats and jackets as people walked along the streets.
Cars moved steadily through the narrow roads, buses hissed to a stop beside crowded pavements, and people hurried in every direction, holding coffee cups or checking their watches.
Parents guided sleepy children toward school, tourists squinted at folded maps, and office workers rushed toward trains and underground stations. It was the kind of morning that felt like a fresh start—and it was, as schools were opening their doors for the start of a new academic year.
At King's Cross Station, the pace only quickened. The air was filled with the sounds of trains coming and going, whistles blowing, and announcements crackling over the loudspeakers. Suitcases rumbled across the floor, and voices rose and echoed beneath the high ceiling, blending into the familiar chaos of a busy morning.
Passengers hurried between the numbered platforms, weaving past one another—some bound for Edinburgh, others for Leeds or Newcastle. Most had no idea that, tucked quietly between Platforms Nine and Ten, there stood a stretch of wall quite unlike any other.
To ordinary eyes, it was nothing more than brick and stone. People brushed past without a second glance, their attention fixed on tickets, luggage, or the morning paper. But if someone looked closely—very closely—they might have noticed something strange.
A boy pushing a trolley loaded with a large trunk had just vanished straight through that very same, seemingly unremarkable wall. A moment later, a woman followed, her hand resting gently on the shoulder of another child carrying a cage with a snowy owl inside.
No one seemed to notice. Every now and then, a similar scene would play out, yet to the rest of the station, nothing appeared out of the ordinary—as if some unseen force gently nudged their attention elsewhere, causing them to ignore it entirely.
After all, there was magic at work here. This was the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters—a hidden gateway between the ordinary and the extraordinary, shielded by powerful enchantments that only a few could see and even fewer could understand.
Stepping through it, everything changed. On the other side, the atmosphere was entirely different. The air felt warmer, livelier. The platform buzzed with movement and sound, full of the familiar charm of the magical world.
The scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express stood proudly on the track, releasing gentle puffs of smoke that curled into the bright September sky.
Children in black robes weaved through the crowd, some dragging their trunks behind them, others levitating their luggage with a flick of their wands. There was a sense of urgency, but also excitement in the air.
Just like schools across the country were opening their doors for a new term, so too was the school of magic. For young witches and wizards, this was the start of another year filled with spells, potions, and all manner of magical learning, and it began, as always, with this familiar scramble to board the train on time.
A little farther down the platform, a nervous first-year clung tightly to her mother's hand, wide-eyed and silent as she took in the bustling scene around her. Not far off, a group of older students were already laughing and catching up, trading stories and thumping each other on the back like no time had passed at all.
Parents stayed close, not quite ready to say goodbye. They adjusted robes, handed over packed lunches, and brushed away specks of dust that weren't really there. The whole platform buzzed with energy—quick hugs, last-minute reminders, and the usual jumble of farewells.
By now, the crowd had grown into the thousands, with parents, students, and staff filling every corner of the platform. But not everyone here had come through the enchanted wall from King's Cross Station.
Near the stone barrier at the far end, soft cracks sounded now and then—the quiet pop of people Apparating in. Many wizarding parents preferred to arrive this way, appearing out of thin air with their children clinging to their arms. Amid the hum of voices and steam, no one gave them a second glance. It was all perfectly normal here.
And at that moment, at the far end of the platform, tucked away from the bustle and drifting steam, a similar soft crack echoed through the air. Two more figures had appeared—one tall, dressed in a long black coat, and the other a little girl with a satchel slung over her shoulder, still clutching the man's arm from their slightly bumpy arrival.
The girl clearly did not look like she had just had a pleasant experience. She was half-crouched, coughing, and holding one hand to her head as if the world was still spinning.
The man beside her, however, seemed rather amused. He stood calmly, waiting as she got her balance back. It did not take long. Once she straightened up, he gave her a pleased smile, said something quietly to her, and began walking toward the train.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that, Professor," she muttered, trailing after him. "I never want to do that again."
The man chuckled. "Right, right... Let's find Harry and Hermione first."
The girl perked up at the mention of the two familiar names, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She glanced around, taking in the scarlet steam engine and the lively scene on the platform.
She was Jean Grey, of course, and the man beside her was Maverick, who had gone to the States to bring her here.
Originally, he had planned to let her experience walking through the enchanted wall at King's Cross Station. But he had already told her there were two ways to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Jean had been adamant about coming by the second option.
She was probably regretting that decision now.
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Meanwhile, near the usual entrance to the platform, a group of boys and girls had just come through, most of them with the same unmistakable shade of red hair. The Weasleys had arrived, all together as usual, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley flanking their children like bookends. Among them were two who didn't quite match the family look—Harry and Hermione, of course.
"The sooner we get on the train, the better," Ron muttered, nudging Harry's arm as he quickened his pace. "I want to get away from Percy. He's been reminding me he's a prefect every single day, you know. Bloody annoying."
And right on cue, the man in question strode past them, nearly knocking Ron aside as he puffed out his chest and called, "Penelope!" His voice was bright with importance, and he made sure his shiny new badge caught the light as he marched over to a girl with long, curly hair.
"That's his girlfriend," Ron added, looking even more annoyed for some reason. "Come on, let's go," he said again, tugging at Harry's sleeve.
Harry shrugged and followed without any protest, seeing that his friend had at least moved on now from losing that pet of his.
But just as they took a few steps toward the train, Hermione jogged up behind them. "Wait, you two! Why are you in such a hurry?"
"Ron wants to find an empty compartment before the train fills up," Harry said straightforwardly.
Hermione crossed her arms. "Are you forgetting something?"
Harry cocked his head. "Forgetting what?" And then he realized what she meant. "Right! Jean."
"Yes. Jean. We're supposed to wait until Professor Caesar arrives with her."
"The girl from America, right?" Ron asked them. Harry and Hermione had already filled him in on what he had missed while he was vacationing in Egypt. Needless to say, he wished he had gone too, but the time he spent with his family wasn't bad either, so he didn't sulk much.
"There she is!" Hermione suddenly pointed across the platform. "Jean!" she called, waving excitedly before running over. The girl on the other side spotted her as well and ran toward her in return.
"Did you learn any spells yet?" Hermione asked the moment they hugged. They looked a lot like sisters than friends in that moment, grinning wide and talking over each other.
Maverick followed a few steps behind Jean. His purpose was simply to escort her to the station, not to travel with her all the way. "I'll leave her to you, then," he said with a nod to the trio. Turning to Ron, he added, "Mr. Weasley. Heard you had a fun summer."
Ron smiled. "I did, Professor. Though I wish I could've joined them too."
"Next time, then," Maverick told him. Then, turning to Jean one last time, he added, "Good luck, and I'll see you at school."
He turned and left without drawing any attention to himself, making his way toward the train. No one around seemed to notice him—almost as if he wasn't even there.
It was like when Muggles passed enchanted wards or walked right by a Notice-Me-Not Spell without ever realizing it—only in his case, both Muggles and wizards overlooked him, except, of course, the few like the trio he had revealed himself to on purpose.
As for why he was boarding the train, it was simply to make sure things played out the way they had in the original story. There was a separate staff compartment near the front, and that was where he planned to stay—just resting during the trip, with no intention of interfering in anything.
And things might not go exactly as they had in the original story. After all, Harry and Hermione weren't exactly pushovers anymore. They had already learned to cast the Patronus, at least partially—and that alone could change a lot.
Meanwhile, Hermione had already taken the lead and was ushering Jean and the others onto the train.
They checked the compartments one by one, looking for an empty one, but each seemed to already be occupied, with at least one student inside.
Making their way toward the back, they continued searching and even passed a compartment where an adult man in shabby robes was fast asleep, slumped against the window with his face hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. Deciding that wasn't the place for them either, they moved further down the corridor until, thankfully, they found an empty one near the end.
As soon as they had settled into the compartment, Hermione turned eagerly to Jean.
"Right, tell me everything you learned over the past month."
"Seriously?" Ron groaned, slumping into his seat.
"School hasn't even started yet, Hermione," Harry added as well, clearly having the same thought as his best buddy.
Hermione either didn't hear them or simply chose to ignore them.
Jean giggled at her enthusiasm and happily launched into a lively account of her past few weeks. The chatter filled the compartment, and soon Harry and Ron joined in as well. Hermione's new cat, Crookshanks, was curled up like a furry cushion under the table, looking perfectly content with the atmosphere.
Finally, about half an hour later, the train gave a soft jolt and began to move, slowly pulling out of the station.
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