The morning of September 1st came quietly.
I'd been up since dawn, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, fully dressed in my new Hogwarts uniform. Robes over slacks. Shirt buttoned to the throat. Black shoes polished, not by me house-elves again. I still wasn't used to things happening for me, rather than because of me.
My trunk was packed. My wand rested in an inner pocket stitched into the robe lining. My books and supplies were sealed tightly beneath the lid, neatly labeled by the hospital staff.
I almost didn't recognize the kid in the mirror.
Paler than most. Thin, but no longer skeletal. Eyes dark, but focused. Scar on the chin. Mended bones. Fixed teeth. A steady pulse of something under his skin magic, they said.
I still didn't know what that meant. But I knew I could walk without shaking now. That was enough.
Professor McGonagall arrived at seven sharp, dressed in her traveling robes and carrying a small handbag that, like everything in the wizarding world, likely violated at least a dozen laws of physics.
"Ready, Mr. Ryan?" she asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Something about leaving the hospital stirred a strange pressure in my chest. Like I was stepping over a line I couldn't uncross.
As we walked through the now-familiar corridors of St. Mungo's, the staff paused to nod or offer polite farewells.
Healer Miriam pressed a final phial into my hand before we left.
"Emergency core stabilizer," she said. "You shouldn't need it—but just in case."
I slipped it into a deep pocket. Didn't say thanks. She already knew I was grateful.
Outside, the city buzzed.
People passed without glancing. Cars honked. Pigeons scattered. The world kept moving, unaware that somewhere beneath its feet, magic pulsed through cobbled alleys and moving staircases.
I stayed close to McGonagall, mostly because she looked like she belonged everywhere. Like no matter where she walked, it was her space. Even among Muggles.
We took a cab to King's Cross. She told the driver it was for "her nephew's schooling." He nodded and didn't ask questions. London was too busy to care about odd pairs on train platforms.
We stopped outside the main terminal. McGonagall led the way briskly.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," she said. "It's hidden between Muggle platforms nine and ten. I'll show you."
"Three-quarters," I repeated. "Of course. Why use whole numbers when you can confuse everyone."
She gave me a look. "Sarcasm won't make the wall any less solid."
I frowned. "We're walking into a wall?"
"Through it. There's a difference."
Inside the station, the noise grew louder. Parents shouting. Kids dragging luggage. Crackling announcements overhead. It was overwhelming, but in a strangely grounding way. This was normal. Human. Familiar.
We approached the barrier between platforms nine and ten—a wide pillar, unassuming.
McGonagall turned toward me. "Walk straight at the barrier. Don't stop. Don't hesitate."
I raised a brow. "You sure you're not trying to trick me into smashing my face?"
"If I wanted that, I'd have done it during your first check-up."
"…Fair."
She gestured. "Go on, Mr. Ryan."
I squared my shoulders, took a breath, and walked.
The concrete wall surged toward me.
Then vanished.
On the other side, I stopped dead.
A scarlet steam engine roared on polished tracks, spewing clouds of white vapor into the air. The station was crowded with students and families—wizards in robes, trunks piled high, cats in cages, owls hooting overhead, and the constant hum of magic in the air.
A black wrought-iron sign overhead read: Platform 9¾ – The Hogwarts Express
I stared.
For once, I didn't say anything sarcastic.
McGonagall stepped through the barrier behind me. "Every first year takes the train. It's tradition."
I watched the students. They looked… normal. Loud. Nervous. Some wore polished shoes and perfect smiles. Others looked like they'd never left their family's estate. I didn't fit either mold.
"Do I get a pet?" I asked suddenly, remembering the list.
She cleared her throat.
There was a very brief pause.
"Ordinarily, yes," she said. "Students may bring an owl, a cat, or a toad."
"…But?"
"The Ministry… ah, sent a note."
Of course they did.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a crisp parchment.
[NOTICE OF BEASTS ACT VIOLATION – OWL REGISTRY DIVISION
To: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Subject: Student – Ryan Ashford (First-Year)
Violation: Interference with Postal Owl / Destruction of Magical Parcel / Consumption of Government Property
Status: Warning Issued
Consequence: Student to be barred from owl ownership during first academic year. Probation status active.]
I stared at the letter.
"You're joking."
"I wish I were."
"I was starving!"
"The Ministry is… not known for its sense of nuance."
I crumpled the corner of the letter between my fingers.
"Well. No owl for me."
She gave a sympathetic nod. "We'll make alternative arrangements for any messages. Professor Dumbledore has already approved it."
"…Tell me that doesn't involve pigeons."
McGonagall actually smiled. "No pigeons. But perhaps a very agreeable school owl. If you promise not to eat this one."
I rolled my eyes.
The whistle blew, long and low, echoing across the platform.
Students began climbing aboard, trunks levitating behind them, guided by parents or pushed by hand.
McGonagall handed me my ticket. Gold lettering. Elegant script.
Hogwarts Express – Carriage 3, Compartment 7
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then looked up at the train again.
I felt… strange. Like I was about to step off a cliff. Like I was heading somewhere I wouldn't be able to come back from.
Because I wasn't.
"You'll be alright," McGonagall said, her voice softer now. "You've survived much harder things than a train ride."
I nodded.
Not because I believed it.
But because I was tired of waiting.
I climbed aboard, the door shutting behind me with a click.
Through the window, I saw McGonagall still standing on the platform. Tall. Straight. Unwavering.
Like a checkpoint marker in a life already long behind me.
I didn't wave.
She didn't either.
But I knew, somehow, we both understood.
Whatever was ahead…
It was mine now.