Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

I couldn't fall asleep.

Not because I was uncomfortable. Not because of any noise. I was simply... too excited.For the first time in my life, I was about to leave the orphanage — not for hours, but for months.And even though that place had never been a fairy-tale home, it was still mine.My four walls. My books. My dreams.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling.I could feel a shift in the air — invisible, yet real.As if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for me to rise.

I woke before sunrise. I hadn't needed an alarm clock.I wouldn't have slept anyway.

I had packed everything the night before, so I just got dressed, grabbed my bag, Hedwig's cage... and paused.I took one last look at my room.

It was empty.As empty as a room can be after someone has lived there for years, quietly, in the background.

I didn't feel sadness.More like... peace.It was time to move on.

The journey to King's Cross was uneventful.A bus, then the Underground.I squeezed between commuters — tired, indifferent.No one paid me any attention.No one asked questions. That was convenient.

Muggles had this uncanny ability — to overlook anything too strange to be real.

The train station was crowded. People rushing to work, children clinging to their parents' hands. Normal. Ordinary.

And yet... something felt different.

I stopped between platforms nine and ten. And that's when I saw it.

The wall.

It looked completely normal — bricks and mortar. But my eyes saw more. Threads of magic wrapped it tightly, pulsing and coiling — like something inside was alive.A passage. For those who knew how to see it.

I smiled faintly.

Took a breath and walked straight into the wall.

No pain. No resistance. Just the sudden, subtle shift — as if the world around me had changed.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was unlike anything I had known.

Steam hissed from the train engine. Carriages buzzed with noise and laughter.Families saying their goodbyes. Owls hooting from their cages. Everything shimmered with magic — real, living magic. The kind I'd only ever known from books. And memory.

I recognized a few faces. The redheaded boys — the Weasleys, of course. And a bushy-haired girl, animatedly explaining something to her parents. Hermione Granger. I knew all of them. But they didn't know me.

I boarded the train unnoticed. I passed compartment after compartment — some full, some nearly empty. I stopped at one near the end. Empty. Perfect.

I placed my bag on the shelf. Hedwig sat quietly in her cage. I slid the door closed and sat by the window.

I'd arrived early — before eleven — so there weren't many people yet. Families like the Weasleys were always chaotic; instead of preparing the day before, they rushed everything at the last second. I watched the platform in silence.

A few minutes later, the door slid open. A thin, black-haired boy with glasses stood there.

"Excuse me... is this seat taken?" he asked, a bit shyly.

"Go ahead," I said casually, turning back to the window. Fate really was playing tricks on me — meeting Harry Potter at the very start of my Hogwarts journey. Ron would probably appear soon, too. I didn't want to be drawn into the main trio of heroes... but did that mean I should ignore them?

"Harry Potter," he added, extending his hand.

"Oliver Peverell," I replied, shaking it.

Harry clearly wanted to start a conversation, but he seemed more hesitant than I remembered. I, on the other hand, wasn't going to initiate anything.But if asked — I'd answer.

The door opened again. This time, a red-haired boy with freckles entered, dragging a huge suitcase and nearly tripping over it.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, looking around. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry lit up. "Sure!" he said with relief. "Harry. Harry Potter."

"Ron. Ron Weasley," the boy replied, sitting across from him. He blinked in disbelief. "You're... really him?"

"What?"

"You know. Him. Harry Potter."

Harry flinched slightly, but nodded. Ron's eyes widened.

"I've got your Chocolate Frog card!"

Their conversation flowed easily, like they'd known each other for years.I watched from the side. Ron barely gave me a glance — just a quick "hi."I didn't mind.

It was nice, in fact — observing from the sidelines. Like watching a story I already knew — stripped of its polished fairytale glow. More raw. More real.

Some time later, an older witch pushing a trolley peeked in.

"Anything off the trolley, dears? Pumpkin Pasties? Every Flavor Beans?"

Harry pulled out a handful of Galleons.

"I'll take the lot," he said, eyes wide with excitement.

Ron looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. He reached into his pocket for a few coins, then stopped, unsure. Harry just smiled and shared everything he bought.

I remained silent. I accepted a Chocolate Frog or biscuit now and then, when offered.Hedwig dozed in her cage, unaffected by the fuss.

Soon, a girl with frizzy hair and a serious face appeared in the doorway.

"Has anyone seen a toad? My friend Neville's lost his."

I knew this part.

"No," Ron said through a mouthful of food.

The girl looked at him, unimpressed.

"You should already be in your robes. We're nearly there."

She glanced briefly at me, said nothing, then turned to Harry.

"You're Harry Potter," she said as if reciting a fact. "I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you. Hope you find the toad."

And then — she left.

The compartment fell silent for a while.

The train raced through green fields.I stared out the window, wondering what awaited on the other side of the lake.

The train began to slow. Wheels clacked louder. Brakes hissed. Children stood, grabbing their things. Voices grew louder.

Harry and Ron scrambled to close their trunks. I simply reached for Hedwig's cage.She blinked slowly — calm as ever.

Before we left, I exchanged one last glance with the boys.

"Good luck," I said softly.They smiled back. They had no idea what awaited them.

On the platform, Hagrid was already waiting — huge, wild-bearded, lantern in hand, calling for the first-years.

"Firs'-years! Over here! Firs'-years this way!"

The group of students followed him. I recognized familiar faces: Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione... But I didn't join them.Someone else had already noticed me.

"Hey! You — Peverell, right?" a voice behind me said.

I turned.

Draco Malfoy stood there, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His blond hair was neatly styled, and his face wore its usual smirk of superiority.

"I saw you at the robe shop. You can join us. No one'll bother you," he added — though it sounded more like a challenge than an invitation.

I looked at him for a long moment. He stared back, confident… but not completely.Something in my gaze — too calm, too still for a child — made him flinch. Just slightly.

"All right," I said evenly.

We boarded one of the boats. Four of us: me, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Around us, the rest of the boats glided silently toward the castle.

In the distance, Hogwarts shimmered — its lights reflected in the lake like floating stars.

Draco tried to start talking. He muttered something about "Mudbloods" and "purebloods," but when I looked at him — really looked — he went quiet.

This time, for longer.

I said nothing.I didn't need to.

Some people understand when silence speaks louder.

The wind tugged at our cloaks. The lake was still. Even Crabbe and Goyle said nothing.There was something… solemn about the moment. As if even the night didn't dare interrupt.

The castle loomed closer — rising from the shadows.

And I felt it again.

This was only the beginning.

The boats bumped gently against the shore.Hagrid raised his lantern.

"Out ya get! Hurry along now, don't want anyone fallin' in!"

I stepped out last.Our boat — by chance or by fate — had gathered boys I knew all too well.

Malfoy and his shadows had watched me quietly through the ride. Now, his eyes tried to read me. He didn't speak. Maybe that was for the best.

I felt… out of place in his world.

He stepped off first — rigid, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

As I set foot on the grass, I looked up at the castle.Hogwarts.

And then I felt it — again.

The threads of magic.

They flowed through the air above us. Wrapped around the towers like glowing ribbons.Sank into the stone itself.

They were ancient. Powerful.Alive.

There was something conscious in them.

The castle recognized me.

Harry walked past me. His eyes were locked on the castle — full of wonder. Mine were steady. Not afraid — but aware. And perhaps… uneasy.

Professor McGonagall stood at the top of the stone steps. Straight-backed. Composed. Waiting.

Malfoy glanced back at me once more. He looked like he wanted to say something — smug, no doubt — but when our eyes met, he hesitated.

Only for a heartbeat.

Then he turned away — pretending nothing had happened.

The first-years gathered at the gates. Someone tripped.Someone else laughed nervously.

McGonagall raised her hand.

The castle responded.

The massive doors creaked open.

And silence fell.

This… was the true beginning.

I entered among the last.

The gates of Hogwarts closed behind me.