The moment I saw the Hogwarts Express, a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief struck me. The red locomotive, shining under the cloudy London sky, looked exactly as I remembered it from the movies. I could almost hear the theme music in my mind. But this wasn't a film. It was real.
I had seen this scene so many times in my past life—on screens, in books, in dreams—but now I was living it.
Platform 9¾ was hidden in plain sight, just as described. My parents were wide-eyed and nervous, still processing the idea of magic. I gave them a smile of reassurance before walking determinedly toward the barrier. My chest tightened as I passed through. On the other side, the magical platform came into view.
A great cloud of steam hissed as the train readied for departure. Dozens of children hurried, their trunks floating beside them, guided by magic. Owls hooted in cages. Robed figures bustled about, wishing tearful goodbyes or giving final instructions.
I found a seat in a nearly empty compartment, taking a deep breath. This was the beginning.
Soon, someone knocked and slid the door open. A tall, slightly awkward boy with messy dark hair and a large frame peeked in.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
"Sure," I replied. "Plenty of room."
He entered with a small smile. "I'm Rubeus. Rubeus Hagrid."
I blinked.
Of course. Hagrid. But younger—still a student like me. He must've been around thirteen, already huge for his age.
"I'm Elliot Grey," I said, trying not to let my surprise show.
We talked a little, and he seemed nice. Shy, curious, kind. He clearly didn't come from a rich family and had a certain gentleness about him that matched the man I remembered from my past life.
The ride to Hogwarts was a surreal blur of forest, rivers, and distant mountains. When the castle finally came into view across the lake, glowing against the darkening sky, I felt a chill run down my spine.
It was magnificent.
I was finally here.
---
The Sorting Ceremony
Inside the castle, we were led to the Great Hall. Just like in the films—but grander, more alive. Floating candles, the enchanted ceiling, the four long tables filled with students in robes of red, yellow, blue, and green.
Professor Dippet, the current Headmaster, sat at the center of the staff table. At his side was a younger Albus Dumbledore, who offered me a small nod as our eyes met.
Then came the Sorting Hat.
My name was called: "Elliot Grey."
I walked to the stool and sat down. The Hat was lowered onto my head.
"Well, well… interesting… very interesting," the Hat murmured in my mind. "So many thoughts… and something more… You've lived before, haven't you?"
I froze.
"Yes… knowledge beyond your years. A mind trained in logic… and yet, a heart longing for purpose…"
It hesitated.
"Ravenclaw would suit your thirst for knowledge. But there's also bravery… and a fire that burns for justice. Gryffindor, perhaps?"
I didn't speak, but a part of me begged not to go to Slytherin—not yet. I wasn't ready to play games.
"Hmmm… Gryffindor it is!"
The Hat shouted. The table erupted in cheers. I stepped down, heart pounding, and joined my new Housemates.
I sat beside a boy named Thomas who welcomed me with a smile. "Welcome to Gryffindor, mate."
I smiled back, still dazed. Hogwarts. Gryffindor. It was really happening.
---
First Days of Magic
The next few days were filled with excitement and awkwardness. Everything was new, yet somehow familiar.
My classes were just like I imagined. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions… Every hallway held secrets. Every painting whispered. Every staircase moved when you weren't looking.
Professor Dumbledore, who taught Transfiguration, quickly noticed my interest. He called me after class one day.
"You're a quick learner, Mr. Grey," he said. "You remind me of a student I once knew."
I smiled, saying nothing.
My wand—a beautiful piece of black walnut, 11 inches, with a core of dragon heartstring—responded to me like an extension of my will. It felt natural in my hand. Casting spells came easier to me than I expected. Maybe because I had been practicing my telekinesis since I was nine. Magic, it turned out, had always been with me—just waiting to be awakened.
I quickly made a name for myself, though I kept my head down. I didn't want attention. Not yet.
Hagrid and I became fast friends. Despite the age difference, we spent time walking the castle grounds, talking about magical creatures and the classes we liked best.
One afternoon, I looked up at the sky, watching the owls soar, and whispered to myself:
"I know how this story ends. But maybe now… I can write my own version."