The morning of September 1st dawned bright and clear, but in the Gill and Livanthos households, the air was thick with a bittersweet tension. The grand foyers, usually scenes of calm efficiency, were now occupied by large, polished school trunks. A short while later, the two families stood together on the bustling pavement outside King's Cross Station, having arrived in a convoy of sleek, black town cars. The mundane reality of London traffic made the magical journey ahead feel even more surreal.
Inside the station, the noise and crowds were overwhelming. Professor Flitwick had explained the procedure, but standing before the solid, unyielding barrier between platforms 9 and 10, the theory felt flimsy.
"You're sure?" Talora whispered to Shya, her hand tightening on the handle of her trolley. Her mother, Carrie, was already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, while her father stood with a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"It has to work," Shya said, her voice more confident than she felt. Her own mother, Renu, was holding her composure, but her knuckles were white where she gripped her Birkin. Her father stood calmly beside her, a steadying presence.
It was the younger brothers who broke the solemn moment. Tristan clutching Talora's leg, looked up with wide, watery eyes. "Don't go," he mumbled, his lower lip trembling.
Arya, standing very straight and trying to be brave like his father, sniffed. "You'll write, won't you? About the… the magical physics?"
The sight of their little brothers' faces, so full of love and loss, was the final crack in the girls' composure. Talora knelt down, pulling Tristan into a tight hug. "Of course I'll write, you little stinker. Every week." She kissed his messy hair, her own tears finally escaping.
Shya crouched in front of Arya, her own eyes glistening. "I'll send you every magical equation I can find," she promised, her voice thick. She pulled him into a hug, feeling his small arms wrap tightly around her neck.
Then it was the mothers' turn. There were no words, just long, fierce embraces, whispered "I love yous" and the silent communication of a thousand shared memories.
Shya's father pulled her close. "Remember, puth," he said, using the Punjabi term of endearment that always made her feel safe. "This is an opportunity, not a prison. If you are truly unhappy, you come home. No questions asked."
Talora's father hugged her just as tightly. "Listen, my little stinker," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You show them what you're made of. And if anyone gives you trouble, you write to me immediately."
With one last, wobbly smile to their families, the two girls turned to the wall.
"On three?" Talora asked, taking a deep, shaky breath.
"Just run," Shya replied, her impulsive nature taking over. "Don't think."
They looked at each other, a lifetime of friendship in a single glance. Then, pushing their trolleys before them, they broke into a run straight at the solid barrier. For a terrifying second, Shya was sure they would crash. Then, the brick melted away into a shimmering arch, and they stumbled through, the sounds of the mundane station vanishing, replaced by the spectacular chaos of Platform 9¾.
The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood puffing steam, and the platform was a riot of reuniting families and scrambling students. For a moment, they just stood there, catching their breath, their cheeks still wet.
Talora let out a watery laugh. "We did it."
Shya nodded, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. The trepidation was still there, but it was now mixed with a soaring excitement. They were here. They were really, truly here.
"Come on, Bob," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Let's go find a compartment."