September 1st, 5 a.m.
Hermione had been too excited to sleep. The thought of finally going to Hogwarts kept her awake most of the night; she'd only drifted off around two or three in the morning, and by five she was awake again.
Once up, there was no chance of sleep. She bustled about like a headless chicken—checking the Hogwarts supply list again and again, peeking in on Crookshanks in his little nest, rifling through the suitcase her mother had packed to make sure every last garment was folded neatly inside.
Loren, however, stuck to his routine. He rose at five, went through his morning exercises, washed, organized his things, and only then walked next door to the Grangers' house.
By the time he arrived, it was already eight. Mrs. Granger had breakfast laid out. Hermione, on the other hand, sat slumped in her chair, fast asleep beside a half-eaten plate.
Loren sighed helplessly. All these years, and he still hadn't broken her of this habit. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small vial and placed it by her plate—an Invigoration Draught, a potion most students didn't learn until fifth year, but which he could already brew.
Mrs. Granger caught his action and smiled knowingly. In her eyes, the two were already a pair—it was only their age that kept them from "making it official."
They discussed travel plans. Mr. Granger couldn't drive them to the station—he had patients scheduled. So the task fell to Mr. Angus, whose work hours were far more flexible.
By half past eight, Mr. Angus had pulled up with his wife. Hermione, revitalized after drinking the potion, was first out the door, dashing to the car. She kept calling back, urging the others to hurry, while Loren and Mrs. Granger strolled at their usual pace.
"Hermione, don't rush. King's Cross is barely an hour away. It's only eight-thirty now; we'll be there by ten at the latest, and the train leaves at eleven. Plenty of time," Loren said calmly as he settled into the front seat.
Hermione breathed easier. She knew Loren always planned ahead; if he wasn't worried, there was no reason to panic. In all the years she'd known him, she had never once seen him flustered.
After a busy morning, they reached King's Cross before ten. Loren and Hermione each pulled a suitcase, while the three adults carried the pets. They were eager to see what "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters" actually looked like.
At last they stopped between Platforms Nine and Ten.
"Loren, where is it? I don't see anything. Do we need a wand to open it, like Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, eyeing the plastic platform signs. The three adults turned expectantly to Loren.
With a sigh, he said,
"Put on the glasses I gave you. They're not just for better eyesight—they grant magical vision, too. You'll be able to see it."
Obediently, the adults donned their gifts. Instantly, the world shifted. The wall between the platforms shimmered in a blue glow, turning translucent. Through it, they glimpsed hints of what lay beyond. Around them, a few people glowed yellow—the aura of neutral magic.
These glasses were Loren's latest invention. Before, his alchemy had leaned toward technology; now, with magical knowledge supplementing it, his craft had become whole.
Each of them also wore a pendant and bracelet, though they hadn't tested them yet. Loren finally explained:
* The glasses revealed magic, distinguishing intentions: red for hostility, yellow for neutral, green for friendly, and blue for magical items.
* The pendant, modeled after his own shield, projected a protective barrier that also defended against mental intrusions like Confundus and Obliviate. If broken, it triggered a teleport to his personal safehouse and alerted him instantly.
* The bracelet worked like a child's wand, capable of casting common household charms.
The three adults immediately put them on, fingers tracing the bracelets as if eager to try them.
"Not here," Loren cut in firmly. "Save it for home. I've disguised your houses so it's safe to practice there, but never use magic in front of ordinary people."
Then he explained how to enter the platform.
"One at a time, walk straight into the wall. Do it quickly, so no Muggles notice. Hermione, you first."
She grabbed her suitcase and dashed forward. A crowd of tourists swept past, and when they cleared, Hermione was gone.
One by one, the others followed. Loren was last, slipping through to the other side and onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The scarlet steam engine stood waiting. With an hour to spare, the platform wasn't yet crowded.
On board, Loren and Hermione searched through the compartments. The front cars were nearly full, so they continued toward the rear, finally finding an empty one.
Loren stowed their luggage and hung the cage with "Emergency Rations" inside. Hermione placed Crookshanks on the seat, his squashed face glaring at the world as only he could.
Through the window, Loren waved to the three adults below.
"Loren, take care of Hermione! Don't let anyone bully her!" Mrs. Angus called up.
"I'll look after her. Don't worry," Loren answered.
The adults fussed a little more over Hermione, then, unable to resist their curiosity, hurried off. They were clearly eager to try out their new magical trinkets. The mothers in particular were already talking loudly about no longer needing escorts to Diagon Alley.
Watching them go, Loren couldn't help thinking his parents might love the magic more than they loved him. The Grangers, too, had changed under their influence. If not for that, Mr. Granger—ever the doting father—would surely have insisted on coming along himself.
Still, it was a happy sort of problem. Their children were so responsible that the parents hardly had to worry anymore.
With time to spare before departure, Hermione pulled out *Hogwarts: A History* and began reading.
Loren glanced at the cover, then smiled mischievously.
"Hermione, do you know why it's called *A History of Hogwarts* and not just *The History of Hogwarts*?"
Without looking up, she answered,
"Because it's incomplete. A hundred years of records are missing—that's why it's only 'a history.'"
"Want to know what was in those missing years?" Loren teased.
Her head snapped up at once. "Of course! Is it some secret no one talks about?"
"I can't say for certain. But my prophetic gift suggests those three years were dominated by three spells: the Summoning Charm, Transfiguration… and the Killing Curse."
Hermione gasped. "Oh my God—Hogwarts was that dangerous?" She knew enough about the Unforgivable Curses to understand the weight of those words.
"They say Dumbledore himself was a student then. Apparently, not long after he arrived, the crisis ended. Truly, the greatest headmaster," Loren said lightly, half in jest.
Hermione leaned in eagerly, hanging on his words. They chatted animatedly about the "lost years" until, with a long whistle, the train shuddered to life and began to move.
The Hogwarts Express was on its way.
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