"Wingardium Leviosa."
With a wave of his wand, the trunk filled with books and daily necessities gently lifted off the ground. This not only made it easier for Slynt to carry his luggage, but also ensured that, unless someone bent down to look, no one would notice it had been enchanted.
Ever since he submitted the manuscript for Dragon Witch to Andrew, no one had disturbed Slynt's deep exploration of Magic. He'd learned many Charms, especially those useful in daily life.
Of course, he had studied Potion brewing as well. But no matter how much effort he put in, the Potions he made could, at best, be described as non-lethal.
There was nothing he could do about that. Perhaps the Fairy Godmother's teachings were too deeply ingrained in him; he always felt the urge to kick the cauldron. It's worth mentioning that the very first spell he learned in the Dream World was a protective Charm to keep his feet from getting burned.
Slynt pretended to struggle while dragging his trunk, with Andrew trailing behind him, looking a bit puzzled as to why he insisted on carrying the trunk himself instead of letting Andrew handle it.
Andrew checked his watch; the hands pointed clearly to 10:17. If he remembered correctly, the departure time on the ticket was 11:00 sharp.
In other words, the train would leave in just over half an hour.
Andrew's expression suddenly turned serious. As an editor, his sense of time was naturally sharp—perhaps too sharp. To him, arriving an hour early was perfect; arriving only half an hour early? That was practically late.
So, without hesitation, he picked up his pace. As he passed Slynt, he effortlessly lifted him off the ground. Slynt stared blankly at Andrew—when did this guy become so strong?
Andrew moved like a blur—mostly thanks to the Levitation Charm on the trunk. Without that, just the books, textbooks, and thick stack of manuscript paper would've weighed nearly as much as Slynt himself.
"Platform Seven… Platform Eight… Here! Platform Nine!"
Andrew put Slynt down, glancing at the area with some unfamiliarity. He had never been able to come here when he was a child.
"So, did your Professor tell you where it is?"
"It's obvious…" Slynt replied, not directly answering. He stared intently at the dividing wall between Platforms Nine and Ten, mouth slightly agape.
Truly… an overwhelming number…
In Slynt's eyes, the wall was completely covered with countless threads of varying colors—thousands, maybe tens of thousands. They overlapped and twisted together, nearly merging into a screen stretched across the barrier.
There were more threads here than even in Ollivander's Wand Shop—almost as many as in three-quarters of Diagon Alley. One had to realize how vast Diagon Alley was… and how small this wall seemed in comparison.
While he watched, a red-haired family guided a black-haired boy through the wall. One by one, they passed through—clearly a big family.
Slynt saw, with his own eyes, several more threads appear on the wall as they crossed.
His intense staring didn't go unnoticed. Two awkwardly dressed "guards" approached from a distance. In Slynt's unique vision, the threads within their bodies were unusually distinct.
He rubbed his eyes, turning off the ability—something he had recently developed. Without it, Diagon Alley had become a sensory overload of threads, so disabling it made things more comfortable.
As the guards drew near, they glanced at the wand Slynt had deliberately revealed, nodded slightly, and walked away.
"So…"
Andrew's voice came from behind, trying to sound calm but tinged with emotion.
"You should get on the train, Slynt."
He patted Slynt's shoulder and looked him in the eye.
"I won't see you off at the platform… Slynt, make the most of school. Write to me often—no, don't write about Magic. Just tell me what friends you've made, what meals you've had."
Slynt couldn't miss the tremble in Andrew's voice.
Andrew gave him a firm push from behind and placed a bag of candies on the trunk.
"Go on. I still have to track down some scoundrels who are late with their manuscripts. Oh, and these candies—they're your admission gift. I had someone teach me how to make them yesterday… They're definitely better than Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I think that's still what they're called?"
Slynt tucked the candies into his side pocket. Then, without looking back, he ran toward the wall with his trunk trailing behind.
"You take care too! I'll send you manuscripts!"
"If you don't write a single manuscript this school year, don't come back!"
Andrew called out with a smile, but a tear slipped down his cheek.
Hogwarts… Hogwarts… please be kind to Slynt Page. Let him live the life I missed—no, the life I was never meant to live.
Then he turned and walked away.
"Woo—woo—"
The whistle shrieked. Steam billowed above the crowd. Voices rose to compete with the whistle's echo, making everything loud and chaotic.
The crimson steam engine stood proudly at the platform, doors open, inviting the students aboard.
Slynt rubbed his eyes. He had run too fast earlier, and maybe a bit of dust had gotten into them.
He drew his wand, flicked it upward, and his trunk floated beside him once again. Now, on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, surrounded by wizards, he no longer needed to hide his Magic.
Time was tight, and Slynt walked along the train, peeking into each compartment—but they were all full.
It looked like he'd have to join others… preferably other first-years. Older students might not welcome a younger stranger intruding into their compartment.
Finally, near the end of the train, he spotted a compartment with just two people: a girl with curly brown hair and a slightly chubby boy. Judging by their size and expressions—part excitement, part nervousness—they had to be first-years too.
He knocked gently on the glass door.
"Excuse me, is there any room inside?"
The girl nodded quickly, while the boy seemed more reserved. He looked like someone not used to socializing.
Perfect. Slynt liked introverts—less small talk required.
Still, a little courtesy was necessary.
"Thanks. All the other compartments were packed. I'm glad you're willing to share—otherwise, I'd be squished in with seven or eight people. I'm Slynt Page, from a Muggle family."
The girl put down her book and smiled confidently.
"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm also from a Muggle family."
The boy hesitated but finally spoke.
"Hello… Neville Longbottom… from… a Wizard family…"
Just getting that out seemed to take real courage. Slynt found him a bit too shy, but still offered a kind nod.
From a Wizard family?
Before he could think more, Hermione launched into a barrage of questions—some for him, others for Neville.
"Oh, so you're from a Wizard family? Did you start learning Magic early? How many Charms do you know? I've read all the Charms in the textbook, but I haven't mastered them yet—are you a first-year too? Did you use a Levitation Charm on your trunk?"
Her words poured out like a waterfall. She didn't seem to need to breathe.
Slynt glanced at Neville—poor guy, still processing her flood of questions. To help him out, Slynt decided to answer first.
He could tell Hermione was nervous. That kind of speed in speech usually came from anxiety.
"I'm a first-year too. And yes, I practiced for a long time during the holidays to get the Levitation Charm right. It's very useful, isn't it?"
As he spoke, he lifted the trunk slightly with a flick of his wand.
"Oh, so you practiced Magic too! The Levitation Charm—it's pretty far back in the textbook, right? I wasn't sure whether to pronounce it Wingardium Leviosa or Win-gar-dium Le-vio-sa. The book said a wizard once mispronounced a Charm and accidentally summoned a wild ox, so I didn't dare try it at home."
"I think it's Wingardium Leviosa, with the 'gar' pronounced long and clear."
Hermione lit up, happy to find someone who shared her interest. The two quickly got into a detailed discussion about Charms.
Neville remained silent.
"Woo—woo—"
The whistle shrieked once more.
And with that, the story began.