The thick smoke from the steam locomotive curled upward and lingered above the platform like a heavy curtain. The crowd bustled with energy, filled with chatter, footsteps, and the hooting of owls. Cats of all colors weaved between feet, darting nimbly through the chaos.
Fruit Tea sat atop Peter's suitcase, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws. Unlike the other cats, she didn't chase or leap. She simply watched the commotion with calm, golden eyes that gleamed with superiority.
Harry had vanished. That reckless boy had no idea where he was going, and it showed. Peter didn't bother searching for him. Instead, he stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd until he spotted two familiar heads. Pushing his way through the throng, he reached Fred and George.
"Why are you two the only ones here? Where's Percy?" he asked.
Fred gave a dramatic shrug. "Haven't seen him. The esteemed Prefect Percy has far too many responsibilities to mingle with us lowly peasants."
George pretended to look shocked. "Wait, Fred, Percy became a Prefect? Since when?"
"You couldn't possibly have missed it, George. He only mentioned it once. Or twice. Actually..."
Both twins burst out laughing. "All summer! Every single day!"
Just then, Percy emerged from the crowd wearing pristine new robes. His expression was stern, and he moved like a man who had just been crowned king. Peter noticed the glint of a shiny new badge pinned to Percy's chest.
"If I were you two," Percy said, squaring his shoulders, "I would tone down the antics a little. Having a Prefect in the family should inspire some sense of decorum."
Fred gasped. "George, did you hear that? I'm terrified."
George nodded gravely. "He sounds like he's been promoted to Headmaster already."
"You two are hopeless," Percy muttered, choosing to ignore them entirely. He turned to Peter and gave his shoulder a firm pat. With a theatrical flair, he straightened his robes and subtly tilted his chest to show off the badge.
"Peter, my dear brother, if you ever run into trouble at school, come to me. I'll take care of it."
Peter offered a small smile and nodded. "Sure, Percy."
At that moment, the rest of the Weasleys caught up. Molly was her usual whirlwind of energy, guiding Ron and Ginny while Arthur rolled up behind, arms full of last-minute items. The station clock ticked closer to eleven. Thick, white steam hissed louder from the engine, a clear sign that the train would be leaving soon.
Molly's eyes started to glisten as she pulled her sons into a tight hug. She clung to Ron and Peter, her voice trembling.
"You've never been this far from home before. My little boys, off to Hogwarts. Oh, it feels like just yesterday you were crawling around the garden."
Peter gently patted her back. "It's okay, Mom. We're going to school, not vanishing forever. And Hogwarts is the safest place in the world."
He didn't believe that last part. Not for a second. But she needed to hear it. And perhaps, for now, it was still true.
"Once we get to school, we'll write to you and Dad. And of course, Ginny too."
After soothing Molly, Peter leaned down to hug his sister. Ginny was already crying, her small hands clutching his robe as if she could keep him from leaving.
"Peter, I don't want you to go," she whimpered.
"But I have to, Ginny. Hogwarts is where I learn to become a real wizard. You'll come next year, won't you? Then we'll be there together."
He stroked her red hair gently, and it took a few more reassurances before she finally loosened her grip. Ron stood beside them silently, sniffling as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. He didn't say anything, but his watery eyes said enough.
The whistle of the train shrieked in the background as it prepared to leave. Peter and Ron waved one last time to their family and then boarded the train, each pushing a heavy cart stacked with suitcases.
They moved quickly through the narrow corridor, peeking into compartments as they passed. The front of the train was clearly not for them. Percy had mentioned something earlier about a private compartment for Prefects, and the older students lounging near the front certainly looked unapproachable.
Eventually, they reached the back of the train, where a nearly empty compartment waited.
Ron threw his bags down and rushed to the window. He pressed his face against the glass, trying to catch one final glimpse of his parents and Ginny. But the smoke from the engine clouded the platform, and the train had already pulled away from the station.
All he could make out were a few blurry silhouettes waving in the distance.
Ron slumped into his seat, disappointment written all over his face.
Peter, meanwhile, flicked his wand. Their trunks floated neatly into the overhead rack with practiced precision. After a moment, he rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a piece of wrapped candy.
"Here."
Ron blinked in surprise, took it, and fumbled with the wrapper. "Tha... thank you, Peter."
"Call me big brother."
Peter smirked and reached over to ruffle Ron's hair, thoroughly ruining it. Any trace of sentiment disappeared in an instant.
Ron's face flushed with frustration as he batted Peter's hand away. "You wish!"
He launched a half-hearted attack to reclaim his dignity, but before the skirmish could escalate, the compartment door slid open.
A thin boy stood awkwardly in the doorway, dragging a heavy suitcase behind him. His hair was messy, his clothes a bit too big, and behind round glasses, his green eyes looked tired and overwhelmed.
"Excuse me..." he said in a small voice. "May I sit here?"
Harry Potter felt like today had gone from confusing to absolutely exhausting.
First, he had been left at the station by his aunt and uncle, completely lost and unable to find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Then he met a kind lady who pointed him in the right direction, and after finally stepping through the magical barrier, he had to push through a sea of strangers just to find the train. He barely made it on in time, only to discover that nearly every compartment was full.
He'd tried the front of the train first, hoping for a quiet spot, but an older student with a silver snake badge on his chest had shooed him away with a cold glare.
So Harry wandered all the way to the rear, dragging his heavy suitcase behind him and cradling the owl cage in his arms. Every door he passed was already packed, and just when he was starting to wonder if he'd have to sit in the hallway, he spotted two familiar figures.
Red hair.
It was the family he had seen earlier outside the barrier. Their hair was so bright it seemed to glow, and the taller of the two had striking reddish-brown eyes that reminded Harry of polished gemstones. That boy was Peter. Even Aunt Petunia's favorite actors didn't hold a candle to him.
But what had truly impressed Harry was seeing Peter use magic. When the boy waved his wand and made the luggage float effortlessly onto the rack, Harry had stared in silent awe.
Magic. Real magic.
Without thinking it through, Harry found himself walking up to their compartment and sliding the door open. As soon as the words left his mouth—asking if he could sit there—he immediately regretted it. His instincts screamed at him to retreat.
What if they didn't want company? What if they told him to leave?
Years of tiptoeing around the Dursleys had taught him to avoid being a bother. Apologies came more easily to him than confidence. His hand tightened on the handle of his suitcase, and his legs twitched as if ready to turn and flee.
Inside the compartment, Peter was just as surprised.
He had assumed Harry had already found a seat somewhere. Now, seeing the boy standing awkwardly in the doorway, his glasses slipping down his nose and that unmistakable lightning scar partly hidden under messy hair, Peter glanced from him to Ron with a strange feeling in his chest.
The wizarding world had always spoken of destiny, of magic that moved beneath the surface of things. Could it be that the so-called Golden Trio really was meant to meet?
He couldn't say for sure. But after a brief pause, he gave Harry a calm, friendly smile.
"Of course. Please come in."
Harry's shoulders relaxed a little. He gave a grateful nod and turned to haul his suitcase into the compartment. Just as he started to lift it—
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Harry looked up in surprise as Peter pointed his wand at the suitcase. The trunk immediately floated into the air and settled itself neatly into the luggage rack.
For a second, Harry could only stare.
Magic. Again.
Real, dazzling magic.
And just like that, the fear he had been carrying all morning began to melt away.
The wizarding world had always embraced the idea of destiny. In fact, some said magic itself was intertwined with fate. Peter couldn't help but wonder—was this meeting destined? Was the famous Golden Trio meant to form from the very start?
He didn't linger on the thought too long. Whatever the answer, it would reveal itself in time. So instead of overthinking it, Peter kept a calm, unreadable expression and offered the boy a polite smile.
"Of course. Please, come in."
Harry looked a bit startled by the welcome but nodded gratefully. He turned around to drag his suitcase inside—when a voice echoed softly from behind him.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The heavy suitcase lifted off the floor with ease, gliding gently into the air. Hedwig squawked in protest inside her cage, wings flapping in a panic, but the spell held firm.
Harry spun around, wide-eyed, and saw Peter holding his wand in one hand, his knuckles pale, his focus sharp. The trunk floated up and settled neatly on the overhead rack, while the birdcage landed gracefully on the small table by the window.
A large cat already occupied the seat, sitting like a guardian next to the window. Its golden eyes flicked briefly toward Hedwig, then returned to watching the corner of Ron's cage where a very nervous rat cowered.
"Uh... uh..." Harry stood frozen, flustered. After a long silence, he finally managed, "Thank you. Really, thank you."
"You're welcome. Have a seat." Peter gestured to the bench across from him, then added warmly, "I'm Peter Weasley. This is my brother, Ron Weasley. And you must be Harry Potter."
Harry, who had just stepped into the compartment with slouched shoulders and uncertainty all over his face, froze again.
"Hello, Peter... wait. How did you know who I am?"
Peter lightly tapped his own forehead with one finger. "I saw your scar when we were at the platform."
Harry blinked, then let out a small breath of relief. So it wasn't some strange magic trick. Just a sharp eye.
But before he could reply, Ron suddenly shot up, his face a portrait of disbelief. He pointed at Harry's forehead, his eyes wide as Galleons.
"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?!"