London, September 1st, morning, nearing eleven o'clock.
On the road to King's Cross Station, a mint-green sports car swerved wildly, as if it had downed one too many Firewhiskies.
Leon, slumped in the passenger seat, had completely given up.
Eyes shut, out of sight, out of mind.
It's just one lousy life. If I don't die, fine. If I do, well, that's fine too.
Maeve, behind the wheel, was blissfully unaware of his existential crisis.
In her mind, everything was perfectly reasonable.
First, she'd gotten her driver's license through perfectly legal means—legal in the magical sense, that is. (A quick Confundus Charm on the examiner had done the trick.)
Second, roads were built for her to drive on however she pleased.
Other cars getting in her way? Their fault for not knowing better.
And finally, driving was fun. Muggle-made toys were just too entertaining, and she was absolutely loving it.
"Yue~"
Tom, curled up in his birdcage, pretending to be an owl, was getting tossed around like a Quaffle. The poor parrot was so nauseous his feathers looked dull.
"Leon, don't sleep! Check if we're at the station yet!" Maeve called, giving his shoulder a nudge.
Her other hand casually flicked the steering wheel, sending the car into a screeching halt, followed by a dramatic spin and a spectacular drift.
The maneuver brought the entire street to a standstill.
It was terrifying. This wasn't driving—it was bumper cars at a carnival.
Nobody's car was conjured out of thin air, and even if repairs didn't come out of their own pockets, no one wanted their pristine vehicle turned into a wreck.
So, most of the cars on the road grudgingly pulled over, letting the bumper-car lunatic pass.
Except for one blue Ford Anglia, still chugging along normally right in front of Maeve.
Leon opened his eyes just in time to see Maeve's shiny new Ferrari about to kiss the Ford's rear bumper.
SCREECH… CRUNCH.
Heroic Leon managed to save the Ford Anglia's bumper—and their own car's front end.
"Mum, have you ever considered a career change?" Leon said earnestly. "I think the Knight Bus driver position was made for you."
He wasn't joking.
The Knight Bus could go anywhere (except fly), and everything—buildings, cars, lampposts, even grass—would magically move out of its way (unless stopped by a wizard's wand).
Get Maeve one of those, and Leon's life might just be spared.
CRASH! BANG! CLATTER!
Clearly, his suggestion fell on deaf ears.
Leon, Tom, and their luggage were unceremoniously dumped out of the car.
"Yue… ouch… yue… it hurts…"
Tom, headfirst in the overturned cage, weakly kicked his legs.
Maeve's cute little sports car roared, pedal to the metal, blasting Leon with a faceful of exhaust before speeding off, pursued by two police cars in hot pursuit.
Leon shook his head, righted his trunk, grabbed the birdcage, and started toward King's Cross Station.
Then he caught sight of the Ford Anglia that had narrowly escaped disaster. Out poured one, two, three, four, five… who knows how many redheads.
"Hm?"
Leon glanced at the car, then at the people, and pulled out his new pocket watch to check the time.
A bold idea sparked in his mind.
It was the first day of term, and the Weasleys, along with Harry, who were staying at the Burrow, had gotten up early.
But they'd hit snag after snag.
If Mrs. Weasley hadn't vetoed it, Mr. Weasley might've used the car's flying feature to make up time.
After battling traffic and nearly getting into an accident, they finally reached King's Cross Station at a quarter to eleven.
Just fifteen minutes before the Hogwarts Express was set to depart for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Weasley parents hurriedly got the kids out of the car, grabbed their luggage, and rushed into the station.
Hidden between Platforms 9 and 10 was the magical Platform 9¾, as indicated on their train tickets.
The station clock ticked forward as the Weasleys anxiously counted the minutes, urging everyone to pass through the barrier one by one, trying not to draw attention.
They slipped through the wall to the platform Muggles couldn't access.
Leon trailed behind them the whole way, like a leopard stalking its prey, patiently waiting for his moment.
10:59 a.m.
In front of the barrier, only a few Muggle travelers remained—along with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Leon.
Harry and Ron were nervously scanning the Muggles around them, oblivious to the boy behind them pushing a trunk just like theirs, with a birdcage that matched Hedwig's.
Leon, familiar with house-elf magic, sensed a Shield Charm being cast right against the barrier.
Probably Dobby, the Malfoy family's house-elf, "helping" out.
Smart move—safe and efficient.
And it worked like a charm.
CRASH!
Harry and Ron slammed into Dobby's magical barrier and bounced back hard.
Harry hit the ground, his birdcage clattering, and Hedwig screeched in protest.
Ron stumbled, helping Harry up, grabbing the fallen trunk and the rolling cage.
But the crash was so loud it drew every eye in the vicinity.
Tick, tick…
Harry frantically tried to calm the squawking Hedwig.
Ron, sweating, glared at the gawking Muggle onlookers.
"We're going to miss the train," he muttered, his face turning as red as his hair.
Tick, tick…
"I don't get it," Harry said.
He and Ron pressed against the barrier, trying again, but the wall didn't budge.
Their minds went blank, completely clueless about what was happening or what to do.
There were still parents inside who hadn't come out—why was the passage closed?
Tick, tick…
CLANG… CLANG… CLANG…
The giant station clock struck eleven.
The train was gone.
A faint ripple of magic faded—Dobby was gone too.
Leon stepped forward.
"Hey, mates, why aren't you going through?"
He waved his pocket watch. "You're about to be late."
The two, mid-discussion about flying the car to Hogwarts, froze as their excitement was cut short.
"Er, we're already late," Harry said, pointing to the clock overhead. "The eleven o'clock bells just rang."
"Oh, really?"
Leon scratched his head casually. "I thought that thing was just chiming for fun."
Ron noticed Leon's gear looked similar to theirs. He exchanged a glance with Harry and was about to speak when Leon cut in:
"Oh no, what now? No school to go to? Guess I'll have to go home and inherit the family fortune."
Ron choked on his words.
But Harry caught the hint in Leon's tone.
"You're a Hogwarts first-year?"
Leon nodded, then shook his head.
"Was, until just now. Missed the train, so I guess I'm off to farm the fields."
A look of disappointment and confusion crossed his face.
"Such a shame. I was really looking forward to life at Hogwarts."
The slight air of melancholy suited his face perfectly.
Harry was instantly moved.
Hogwarts was like home to him.
He couldn't imagine the pain of not being able to go back.
For this new kid to miss out on the wonders of the magical world—what a tragedy that would be.
"Ron," Harry said quietly, turning to his friend. "Can we bring him with us?"
Ron squinted at Leon, feeling a strange sense of familiarity.
With all that talk of "inheriting the family fortune," maybe he was from a wizarding family—possibly even a distant relative. That would explain why he seemed familiar.
If he was family…
"No problem," Ron said, leading the way toward the exit. "Come on, mate, we'll get you to Hogwarts."
"Really? That's brilliant! I can go to Hogwarts! Thank you so much!"
Leon's face lit up as he jogged after Harry and Ron.
"Oh, by the way, I'm Leon Green. What are your names?"