The sunlight on September 1st was unusually bright, as though even the heavens were celebrating the arrival of the new students.
Above London, the sky was crystal-clear—blue as polished glass, with only a few faint wisps of cloud drifting across it. A refreshing breeze brushed past everyone's ears like whispered words, soft enough to make you want to close your eyes and listen.
Maka had bought a new trunk in Diagon Alley. It was secondhand—picked up from a junk shop—and the Undetectable Extension Charm inside was a little damaged. The space had shrunk considerably. Still, the Ministry's permit sticker was firmly attached to the inner flap, which was what mattered.
After ruthlessly insulting the trunk and bargaining the price down several times, Maka had finally bought it anyway—wincing as he paid. Now he was walking along the corridors of King's Cross Station with an easy stride, enjoying that particular kind of happiness you could only purchase with Galleons.
His luggage consisted of exactly two things: one owl, and one light trunk.
It was, honestly, a wonderful way to travel.
Before long, he arrived at the gap between Platform Nine and Platform Ten—and hesitated, staring at the thick support pillar.
"Oh?"
He reached out.
His hand passed straight through the stonework.
Maka blinked, surprised.
The first time was always hard to get used to. It didn't hurt, but there was still that sliver of tension—like stepping forward when your instincts insisted there was a wall.
He took a cautious half-step…
…and found himself through.
He had entered the true platform of the Hogwarts Express.
Smoke from the steam engine curled above the chattering crowd. Cats of every color and pattern darted between people's feet. Voices hummed and overlapped, heavy trunks scraped and thumped across the ground, and owls shrieked back and forth, answering one another in sharp, echoing calls.
The owl perched on Maka's left shoulder was noticeably larger than most—and far quieter. It didn't hoot endlessly like the smaller ones. It simply blinked its bright eyes and stared at the crowded aisle ahead, utterly unbothered.
Yes. After spending time together, Maka had discovered that his pure-black owl didn't seem to like being kept in a cage. From the moment he'd let it out, it had never gone back.
"Mafa, let's go," Maka said.
He had given it a suitably imposing name—Mafario, shortened to Mafa.
"Hooh," Mafa answered softly, as if agreeing.
The train was already fairly full. Maka passed several carriages without spotting anyone he knew, so he chose a compartment with fewer people and stepped inside.
"Oh—good morning." He nodded politely at the occupant. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Of course. Come in," a black-haired boy answered at once.
The boy looked stiff and uncomfortable, like someone who didn't know what to do with his hands. After that single sentence, he retreated into silence again, shrinking into his seat.
"Do you mind if I introduce myself?" Maka said, because the air felt cold enough to frost over. "I'm Maka—Maka McLean. And you?"
"…Anthony Goldstein," the boy murmured, somehow looking even more nervous after speaking.
It was obvious he wasn't much for conversation. Maka nodded and didn't push further.
He had plenty to do, after all.
Like memorizing. Memorizing. And memorizing some more.
He pulled a textbook from his trunk—One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi—and began reading closely. The thing was absurdly thick, and the variety of plants inside was maddening. Even now, he'd only managed to memorize a little more than half.
After a short while, two more students entered the compartment one after the other. With more people present, Anthony's awkwardness became even more obvious—he stared out the window with forced intensity, pretending the scenery was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
"Hello, everyone!" The blond boy who entered first looked bright and cheerful. "I'm Ernie Macmillan—pleased to meet you!"
He greeted Maka loudly from across the compartment, as though they were old friends.
Maka nodded and introduced himself with a smile, then turned to the girl who had entered last.
"Um…" The girl was smoothing her long brown hair with both hands, trying to force it to lie flatter. It seemed she wasn't happy with the fact that it curled naturally.
"Lisa—Lisa Turpin… ow!" She winced suddenly, having tugged too hard and apparently pulled out a few strands.
"Hey, Maka!" Ernie asked, peering at Maka's book. He was short and round, dressed in a way that looked expensive without being gaudy—clearly from a comfortable family. "What are you reading?"
"Oh, just a textbook," Maka replied, holding it upright so Ernie could see the cover.
"Oh!" Ernie scratched his head, messing up his once-neat blond hair. "We've got that one at home too, but I never thought I'd actually read it. It's so thick—and the title sounds like it'll be boring."
Lisa frowned faintly at Ernie's ruined hair but said nothing. She simply turned her gaze to Maka instead.
Maka had always believed that maintaining a tidy appearance was a kind of basic discipline—something that made people more inclined to like you. Most people preferred clean clothes and neat presentation, even if Maka personally thought comfort mattered more.
Lisa sized Maka up quietly, then nodded with clear satisfaction.
Apparently, this rather cute girl held high standards not only for herself—but for everyone else too.
After that, aside from Anthony—who spoke very little—the other three managed some initial conversation. They even agreed to keep in touch once school began.
And it was fairly obvious that Lisa preferred talking to Maka.
Ernie, blessed with the subtlety of a brick, didn't notice.
As for what Maka gained on the journey—aside from memorizing dozens more plants—the biggest "event" was probably this:
He'd briefly crossed paths with Hermione Granger.
Unfortunately, her sharp, superior manner, machine-gun speaking speed, and urgent, no-nonsense approach to everything made Maka's head hurt. He gave a few perfunctory replies, and Hermione hurried off again almost immediately.
Right—she was helping someone named Neville find a toad.
Something like that.
To be honest, Maka hadn't heard clearly. At the time, all his attention had been spent on drilling herb names into his brain.
The Hogwarts Express ran for an entire day. By the time the train began to slow, night had already fallen.
The final stop was set across the lake outside Hogwarts' rear entrance. First-years had to cross in small boats—four to a boat—which, apparently, was one of Hogwarts' traditions. Of course, if you ever discovered you suffered from seasickness, you could always walk around the lake to the front entrance instead… though you would look slightly ridiculous doing it.
"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted from a boat he occupied all by himself as the first group drew near the cliffside.
Everyone ducked. Their boats glided beneath a curtain of ivy draped over the rock face, entering a hidden open passage. They moved through a dark tunnel that felt like it ran beneath the castle itself, eventually arriving at something like an underground dock. Then they climbed up onto uneven ground scattered with broken stone and small pebbles.
By the light of Hagrid's lantern, the new students made their way up a rocky path, through a passage in the stone, and finally emerged onto a flat stretch of damp grass beneath the looming shadow of the castle.
They climbed a set of stone steps and gathered before a massive oak door.
"All here?" Hagrid raised his enormous fist and knocked three times.
The door swung open.
A tall witch with black hair stood there in deep emerald robes. Her expression was stern—she looked like the sort of person you couldn't bluff your way past even on your best day.
"First-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here," she replied crisply.
It was Hogwarts. Even the rear hall was frighteningly large. Torches blazed along the stone walls, and the ceiling rose so high it was hard to see where it ended. A splendid marble staircase stood directly ahead, sweeping upward toward the floors above.
From a doorway on the right came the distant roar of voices—older students, most likely, already seated and waiting.
But Professor McGonagall didn't lead them through.
Instead, she brought the first-years to an empty room across the hall.
It wasn't large, and the new students packed together shoulder to shoulder. Most of them watched their surroundings with tense, anxious attention.
Maka was no exception. He held his trunk and was squeezed all the way into a corner at one point—so tightly that even Mafa had no choice but to hop up and perch on top of Maka's head.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The Start-of-Term Feast will begin shortly. But before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your Houses. Sorting is a very important ceremony, because while you are here, your House will be like your family within Hogwarts…"
Maka, jammed at the back of the crowd, had no interest in listening to a speech. He simply waited in silence for things to begin.
"…When everything is ready, I will come and collect you," Professor McGonagall finished. "While you wait, please remain quiet."
The moment she stopped speaking, Maka heard a loud, unmistakable—
Gurgle.
"TREVOR!" a boy shouted from somewhere near the front.
Maka couldn't help it. He shook his head with a helpless, almost amused sigh.
"Please remain quiet," Professor McGonagall repeated, her tone hard as stone.
Then she left the room.
Almost immediately, Maka heard laughter ripple from the front.
"Oh—!" A second later, there were screams.
"What now?" Maka muttered under his breath, rising onto his toes to see over people's heads. "Huh… that is—"