Nonchalant
He took a deep breath, and he slowly walked up closer to the mother of he thought was five. “Excuse me.” He had spoken to the lady.
She turned her head with a sweet smile on her face. “Hello dear.” Just by looking at him, she could tell. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” Gesturing to the last of her sons, the youngest looking too. Tall and thin, fiery freckles, bigger hands and feet than his, with a longer nose.
“Yes” He was quick to reply, in his opinion, too quick. “The thing is – the thing is, I don’t know how to –” Stumbling over his words his cheeks became a light pink, he was making a fool of himself, wasn’t he?
“How to get onto the platform?” He was glad she interrupted him. She spoke kindly to him, and he nodded in return.
“Not to worry.” She started. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared, otherwise you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”
“Er – okay.” He hoped he caught all of that.
He pushed his trolley over to the barrier between the two platforms. It looked very solid, unbreakable. All he needed to do was stray his mind from the fact he was going to throw his body at a brick wall. He tried to calm his nerves as he started to walk. Passing people shoved him around whilst passing by eager to get on their way. He quickened to a jog. He’s going to smash into the wall, he knew it. Why was he listening to this woman? His uncle Vernon couldn’t be right, could he? That this was barking mad. He was barking mad himself.
Clear thoughts he remembered as he broke into a run. Otherwise, he’ll be sure to smash his head in and more than likely break his already broken glasses his cousin Dudley broke many times before now. The brick barrier drew nearer. He couldn’t stop. The cart too was out of control as he was. A toe away, to be honest more like a foot away. He squeezed his eyes shut tight still expecting to crash.
Neither did it come. He just kept on running. His eyes opened and what a scene it was. A platform packed with people all boarding a scarlet steam train. There was a sign that read, Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. He turned his head looking behind him, the wall still there which he came from. Only where here it had been and was, the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters, were on display.
Successfully, he had made it. Smoke from the engine train was seen over head and like any other platform, there were crowds. Yet he couldn’t help but notice the animals around, too many cats to count, seeming so of every colour that could be bred. Alike his own, there where Owls who hooted around over the sounds around, the chatting and scrapped trunks.
Few of the first train carriage compartments were already filled, packed to the brim, some half out windows to chat to others outside, some only hanging out whilst others fought over seats, they thought were best. He himself set down travelling with his cart in search of a free empty seat, passing other students on his was, overhearing pieces of current conversations.
A boy round faced conversed with his grandmother over a lost toad. Another with dreadlocks and a surrounded crowd, showing off whatever was in his lidded container. He carried on his way until finding an empty compartment, nearly near the end of the train. Deciding it would be the easiest he moved his caged owl, named Hedwig into the carriage first leaving his trunk to be dealt with next. It was painfully hard to move it inside the train compartment door, especially when he dropped it down on his foot, twice, when he could lift it up enough.
“Want a hand?” he looked up and the voice belonged to one of the red-headed twins he watched and followed.
He could almost sigh in relief, that was if he wasn’t panting. “Yes, please.”
“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” So, this one turned out to be George than… Probably, and with their help finally his trunk was away.
“Thanks.” He said whilst brushing his hair out his eyes, unintentionally swiping past his scar.
“What’s that?” Said one of the twins, he didn’t know which one, but they had potted and pointed his lightning scar.
“Blimey.” The other said in recognition. “Are you – ?”
The two gaped. “He is.” Eyes wide. “Aren’t you?” They had to be sure.
“What?” He replied to their incomplete sentences.
They all but sung. “Harry Potter”
“Oh, him.” He said at first then he realised how stupid he probably sounded. “I mean, yes, I am.”
The twins gawked at his confession, and he was turning beat red. Harry wasn’t used to all these stares. He wasn’t sure he quite understood properly who he was meant to be, not fully able to wrap his head around it. I mean it wasn’t so long ago that he found out he was meant to be the protector of the wizarding world from some man who murdered his parents known as Voldemort, so he was told.
It was a bit of a relief when he heard the twin’s mother calling out to them both. “Fred? George? Are you in there?”
“Coming, Mom.” One of the twins replied, Fred or George, neither one he could tell which, much less their mother.
Fred and George, or George and Fred, hopped off the train whilst Harry took at seat next to the partially opened window, he was half out sight, sitting there. Harry could see each of the fiery family’s head from the window. Able to hear what was being said to another too. He saw the mother, unable to pinpoint her name, Fred or George, George or Fred, Ron, the boy around his age, he assumed and Ginny, the little girl he saw earlier. If Percy was there, he didn’t see or hear him.