King's Cross Station, Platform 9¾, departure time 11:00 AM.
Drawing from his past experience with trains, Rey arrived at King's Cross a solid hour early.
The station was massive, steeped in history. A huge, arched skylight flooded the concourse with natural light.
Crossing the footbridge over the tracks, Rey pushed his trolley to his destination: the arched barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.
A big "9" hung on the left, a "10" on the right. This had to be the place.
The station was swarming with hurried commuters, but Rey couldn't see a single student heading for Platform 9¾ or Hogwarts.
There should have been plenty of them. Rey scanned the area, craning his neck left and right, but didn't spot anyone his age.
Honestly, the idea of running full tilt at a solid brick wall... well, it went against every instinct he had. His body naturally wanted to resist.
In the normal world, doing that would make you look like an idiot.
Of course, with his mature soul, suppressing that hesitation was a piece of cake. But just to be safe, he pushed his trolley up to the wall and gave it a pat.
It felt very solid. His hand registered the rough, cold texture of the brick.
"Can I really go through this?"
After touching the wall, Rey started to have serious doubts.
Magic often defied logic. So, no matter how skeptical he was, sometimes you just had to ignore your instincts and go for it.
Rey took a deep breath, pulled his trolley back to get a running start, and charged.
With firm conviction that he would pass right through, he rammed his trolley into the wall.
Crash!
A loud bang echoed through the station. The trolley overturned, luggage spilled everywhere, and Rey went flying.
The trolley had come to a dead stop against the solid wall. Rey's small body was launched over the handle, scraping against the brick before he hit the ground hard.
At the last second, he managed to shield his head with his elbow. Otherwise, it would have been his forehead bleeding, not his arm.
"Damn it!"
Rey lay there for a moment before scrambling up. Checking his scraped and bleeding elbow, he cursed using a word from his past life.
"Son, are you alright?"
A portly station guard in uniform, drawn by the crash, looked at Rey with concern and confusion.
"I'm fine, sir. Just... lost control of my trolley a bit."
Rey used a familiar excuse. What else could he say? I tried to walk through a wall and ended up face-planting?
"Where's your train? Do you need a hand with your bags?"
The guard looked at the disheveled boy. Out of kindness, he offered to help the kid who couldn't seem to steer a luggage cart.
"No, thank you, sir. I think I just slipped... I can manage, sir."
Politely declining the help, Rey started gathering his scattered belongings.
"Alright then, son. If you need anything, just look for anyone in this uniform."
The guard gave Rey—who kept insisting he was fine—a skeptical look before walking away, shaking his head. He hadn't seen anyone there a moment ago, only discovering the boy on the ground after hearing the crash.
---
The stinging pain in his right elbow was a constant reminder of how stupid he had just been.
After repacking his trolley, Rey gave a bitter, helpless laugh. This was the right spot between the platforms. Why did he crash instead of passing through?
Was the entrance blocked by a house-elf like Dobby, just like in Chamber of Secrets?
But he was a nobody first-year. Who would bother stopping him?
He shook his head, clearing the thought. A quick analysis told him the truth: he, like an idiot, had simply gone to the wrong spot.
Time was running out. If he missed the train, he'd have to wait a whole year to get to Hogwarts.
Just as he was getting anxious, he heard a melodic voice.
"Mother, why was he silly enough to run into the wall?"
A mother and daughter, both dressed impeccably, appeared on the opposite side of the pillar. The girl asked the question with genuine confusion.
She was about Rey's age, likely a first-year too. Her trolley carried a beautiful owl cage.
And she was stunning. High cheekbones, deep-set eyes framed by thick lashes, and a high nose bridge that gave her face a striking, three-dimensional quality.
Her face was heart-shaped, with a smooth forehead and a delicate chin. Her lips were defined, the corners turning up slightly.
This beautiful little girl was currently looking at Rey with a mix of pity and disdain. Clearly, she had witnessed his collision with the wall.
"Agnes, people who run into walls are usually Muggle-borns. It's their first time going to Hogwarts," the woman said, casting a dismissive glance at Rey.
Muggle-born. Rey didn't need a translator for that tone.
The girl smiled at Rey, but it was a smile filled with haughty superiority.
The pair walked around to the other side of the pillar Rey had crashed into. The little girl looked down her nose at him and said, "Hey, little fool. Watch closely. This is the correct entrance."
With that, the golden-haired girl pushed her trolley straight into the pillar next to Rey.
She vanished into the brickwork. Her mother followed suit and disappeared.
"Oh, come on!"
Rey swore under his breath again. He had been in the right place, just on the wrong side of the pillar. It was literally one wall away.
That crash was completely unnecessary. Being called a fool by an eleven-year-old girl... well, he deserved it.
---
What does it feel like to walk through a wall? Rey could tell you: absolutely nothing.
Suppressing the fear of another crash, he walked forward. Darkness flickered for a second, then light, and suddenly he was on Platform 9¾.
It was packed with parents seeing off their children. The atmosphere was electric.
A scarlet steam engine was whistling, signaling its departure. A kind conductor used a Levitation Charm to help Rey get his trunk onto the train.
Walking through the vintage corridor felt like stepping into a movie. It was relaxing and nostalgic. The only downside was that almost every compartment was full.
"Ah, I am so terribly sorry! I will find another seat immediately."
Up ahead, the door to a compartment on the right slid open. A young boy backed out in a panic, bowing apologetically to whoever was inside before closing the door and scurrying away.
"What's going on there?"
Curious, Rey walked up to the compartment and peeked in.
A compartment seated four, but this one only had one occupant. A girl with long blonde hair, reading a book.
Whatever the reason for the emptiness, only an idiot would pass up a seat in a crowded train.
Rey slid the door open and stepped inside.
"Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?"
Rey asked politely, but before the girl could agree, he started shoving his trunk under the seat. In his past life, catching a train was a free-for-all; you didn't wait for permission unless the seat was reserved.
"Did I say you could sit here?"
The girl sounded annoyed, though her voice was still pleasant.
"Oh, sorry. Everywhere else is full. Thanks, by the way!" Rey said unapologetically as he finished stowing his luggage and stood up.
When he turned to face her, however, he paused in surprise. It was the girl from the platform—the one who had called him a fool.
"Hello. I'm Rey Faest. It's an honor to share a compartment with you."
Rey's demeanor shifted instantly. His posture straightened, his smile became polite but reserved. He delivered a flawless, aristocratic greeting.
Recalling the scene on the platform, he knew this girl was from a wealthy, pure-blood family with a serious superiority complex. Chances were, she had "reserved" this compartment with her attitude alone.
To secure a comfortable seat, Rey decided to play the part. He became the quintessential gentleman.
He'd seen enough movies in his past life. He might not be a pure-blood, but he could act like one. When he tried, he could out-snob the best of them.
Faced with such textbook etiquette, a girl raised in high society responded instinctively.
"I am Agnes Greengrass..."
Rey's sudden shift in temperament caught Agnes off guard.
Rey figured she was aiming for Slytherin. So, while he admitted he was an orphan, he also subtly implied that he, too, aspired to be sorted into Slytherin.
Slytherins were known for being elegant, ambitious, and noble. Rey's flattery and impeccable manners convinced Agnes that his parents must have been pure-blood wizards.
After all, no Muggle-born could possess such natural grace.
Rey was a good conversationalist. Or at least, with a mature soul, he could easily charm an eleven-year-old girl.
Agnes was obsessed with Slytherin, and like many children raised in that environment, she had been misled by pure-blood ideology.
The pretty little girl was full of disdain for Muggles. Rey sighed internally: This kid's worldview is a bit twisted.
"Rey, you want to be in Slytherin too, right?" Agnes asked seriously, staring into his eyes.
"Slytherin is the house of the noble and the ambitious. It would be my honor to be sorted there."
Rey's answer was watertight. He never claimed to be a pure-blood; Agnes assumed it. He never explicitly said he wanted Slytherin; Agnes assumed that too.
He wasn't technically lying to the little girl.
But deep down, he felt a pang of guilt, like a creepy uncle tricking a child. Hey kid, wanna see a magic trick?
And the little girl had no idea she was being played. The conversation was so engaging that she completely forgot she had intended to kick this "weirdo" out.
---