Chapter 12
Chapter 12
“Wow.”
Hermione emerged close behind Suer and gasped.
The entire platform looked weathered by age, utterly unlike the station outside. Renaissance patterns had been carved into the brickwork, while a wooden sign hung from a supporting beam on slender iron chains, swaying gently in the breeze.
Across it, in graceful lettering, were the unmistakable words:
**Platform Nine and Three-Quarters**
“An old-fashioned steam train, Suer!”
Hermione excitedly patted his arm.
The Muggle world already had underground trains, and its railways had been modernized more than once. Only this place retained the lingering atmosphere of the previous century.
Suer examined the platform with interest.
It was not very large. The small expanse of stone was packed with people, some dressed normally and others wearing bizarre combinations like padded coats with shorts. Their loud conversations filled the air.
Cats occasionally darted through the crowd, chasing one another between people’s feet.
Owls hooted and grumbled inside their cages.
White steam billowed from the scarlet engine. Neat lettering along its side read:
**Hogwarts Express**
“Where dreams begin,” Suer murmured.
“What did you say?” Hermione leaned closer, then looked up at the clock on the wall–perhaps the only remotely modern object on the platform. “We need to board. I checked our tickets. We’re in carriage ten.”
The trolley wheels rattled over the gaps between the flagstones. They soon found the carriage marked on their tickets. Young witches and wizards were already inside, leaning out of the windows to say goodbye to their families.
Now came the problem.
Suer stared at Hermione’s luggage with a headache. There were only three trunks, admittedly, but two were packed full of books from Flourish and Blotts.
“Would you like some help?” asked a warm voice beside them.
It belonged to a tall, handsome boy.
“That would be wonderful. We were just wondering how the two of us could get these trunks onto the train.”
Suer looked at the high step from platform to carriage and the broad gap before the door, then nodded.
“Mm…”
The weight clearly surprised the older boy. He gripped one handle and tried to lift the trunk, but it did not budge.
“Heh-heh-heh…” Hermione looked awkwardly toward the ceiling.
“Heavy, isn’t it?” Suer said. “They’re all books Hermione bought.”
“It’s no trouble.”
The boy smiled, released the handle, and drew a wand.
“We are wizards, after all.”
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
He pointed at the trunks.
“The Levitation Charm! How did I forget?” Hermione–who had memorized the entire book–groaned in frustration. “This platform is part of the wizarding world. We’re allowed to use magic here.”
Either way, the trunks made it aboard. Determined to finish what he had started, the older boy kindly floated them all the way into the compartment.
“Thank you very much. You can call me Suer,” Suer said.
“No need to thank me. You’re first-years, aren’t you? I’m in my third year. Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff.” The boy smiled. “I hope the Sorting sends you both to Hufflepuff.”
“I should be going. My friends are waiting for me.”
Suer waved and watched him leave.
*So that’s Cedric. Much more handsome than he looked in the films.*
“Did you hear him?” Hermione tapped Suer’s arm. “He mentioned the Sorting.”
The worry on her face made it obvious what she was thinking. Suer gave her a mischievous smile.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it will be a very simple test.”
“Perhaps you only have to cast Alohomora successfully.”
Hermione ignored him and sank into a condition known as pre-exam panic. She opened one trunk, transferred a great heap of books onto the compartment’s only table, and covered every inch of it.
“No, I need to read more. One of these books may explain how to pass the Sorting examination.”
Muttering to herself, she opened *Hogwarts: A History*.
“The answer must be in the historical record.”
Suer sat down beside her. Hermione did not mind. She frowned and flipped rapidly through the pages, becoming absorbed almost at once.
Suer smiled and picked up *Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them*. A substantial portion described the author’s adventures, so he read it like a novel. It was genuinely entertaining.
While both of them were immersed in their books, the compartment door slid open.
“Excuse me. May I sit here?”
A plump, round-faced boy stood in the doorway, looking lost. His lips were pressed into a nervous line.
“I’ve tried a lot of compartments, but they’re all full.”
“Of course.”
Suer looked up and nodded toward the empty seat opposite them.
“Thank you so much.”
The boy placed his trunk in the corner and sat down.
“I’m Neville Longbottom.”
Suer raised his eyebrows.
The future Gryffindor swordsman whose final strike would make him famous? Well, well.
“You’re welcome. I’m Suer Ellison.” He closed his book with a smile. “And this is Hermione Granger.”
“Hello, Suer. Hermione.”
Neville spoke nervously, and Suer noticed a fine layer of sweat on his forehead.
Suer smiled at him, but Hermione did not respond. The atmosphere immediately turned awkward.
“Hermione is just lost in her book,” Suer explained.
He nudged her waist with his elbow.
After knowing Hermione for so many years, Suer had discovered that this was the only reliable method of tearing her attention away from a book.
Her waist was exceptionally sensitive.
“What?”
Sure enough, Hermione looked up at him furiously. Then she noticed Neville sitting opposite.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you come in. Hello, I’m Hermione Granger.”
Neville gave an embarrassed smile and introduced himself again.
The atmosphere quickly improved.
Before long, however, Hermione launched a barrage of questions.
“Are you a Hogwarts first-year too? I never knew magic existed before. I was absolutely astonished when my acceptance letter arrived.”
Neville nodded, but that was only the beginning.
“Do you know how the Sorting ceremony works? I read that Hogwarts has four Houses.”
“I don’t know how they sort us. My gran never told me,” Neville answered honestly. “But she hopes I’ll be placed in Gryffindor, because my dad was a Gryffindor.”
Hermione nodded.
“Your gran? Is she a witch too?”
“Yes.” At the mention of his grandmother, a trace of fear crossed Neville’s face. “My gran is a witch. Everyone in my family is magical.”
“That’s wonderful! Neither Suer’s parents nor mine can use magic. Oh, our families live next door to each other. If everyone in your family is magical, you must already know loads of spells, don’t you?”
…
Question followed question.
At first Neville managed to answer a few. As Hermione continued, however, he began to stammer, and the sweat on his forehead grew visible to the naked eye.
They were all first-years. There was no need for one first-year to torment another.
Taking pity on him, Suer halted Hermione’s bombardment.
“We’ll learn everything once we arrive. Isn’t it better to preserve a little mystery?”
“That makes sense.”
Hermione snapped her book shut, finally ending an interrogation that seemed determined to uncover all eighteen generations of Neville’s ancestors.
Neville gave Suer a grateful look and breathed a sigh of relief.
At that moment, the train began to clatter violently. Steam rushed from the engine with a shrill whistle.
The carriage swayed, and the scenery outside started to move.
Families waved and ran beside the train until they crowded against the far end of the platform.
A long whistle echoed over the tracks.
The train to Hogwarts had begun its journey.