Kings Cross Station
September 1st, 1971
When they arrived at King’s Cross, the station was bustling with activity. Muggles hurried past, their arms full of bags and newspapers, oblivious to the hidden world around them. Remus trailed behind his parents, pushing a small cart with his trunk and belongings. His father handed him a ticket as they wove through the crowd.
“Platform 9¾?” Remus said, frowning at the slip of parchment. “Is this… a mistake?”
“No mistake,” his father said briskly, leading the way.
Remus glanced up at the signs as they walked. Platform 9. Platform 10. But there was no sign of 9¾. His confusion grew as they stopped in front of a seemingly solid brick wall.
“This is it,” Lyall said, gesturing toward the barrier.
Remus blinked. “You’ve gone mad.”
Hope laughed softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Just trust us, love. All you have to do is run at it—straight at the wall.”
“Run at the wall?” Remus repeated, incredulous. “I—what if I—”
“You’ll be fine,” Lyall interrupted, stepping forward. “Watch.” Without another word, he pushed his cart ahead and strode straight into the brick. A moment later, he disappeared.
Remus stared at the spot where his father had been, his mouth slightly open. “You’re sure this is safe?”
“Of course,” his mother said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Your father’s not as reckless as he looks. Go on, now. I’ll be right behind you.”
Swallowing hard, Remus gripped his cart and took a hesitant step forward. The wall loomed in front of him, solid and unyielding. He tightened his grip.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered.
And then he ran.
For a split second, he braced for impact, his heart pounding in his chest. But instead of crashing into stone, he felt a strange tugging sensation, as though he were being pulled through water. The next thing he knew, he was standing on a completely different platform, the air filled with the hiss of steam and the chatter of excited voices.
He turned to see his father waiting nearby, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Moments later, his mother emerged through the wall, brushing off her skirt as though it were an everyday occurrence.
“Well done,” she said, ruffling his hair.
Remus glanced around, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the scarlet train waiting on the tracks, its engine billowing thick clouds of smoke. The sign above read: Hogwarts Express.
For the first time that morning, excitement bubbled up in his chest, momentarily drowning out the fear. This was it. He was really going to Hogwarts.