The Last First Day
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats
The morning sun streamed through Jamie’s window, casting a warm light across her room. She stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her cardigan, a mixture of excitement and nerves swirling in her stomach. Today she was returning to Hogwarts, the place where she’d learned so much and grown into herself over the past few years. She looked forward to reuniting with her friends; they had kept in touch all summer, but being back together would be incomparable.
Downstairs, she could hear her parents bustling around, readying her things by the door. Her father was arguing with her owl, Crink, likely struggling to get him back into his cage. Her mother, laughing, teased him, saying he was going to “miss that bloody bird” once Jamie was gone.
She glanced around her room, mentally ticking off her checklist. On her bed lay a hoodie she’d forgotten to pack, a half-read book she figured she’d finish at some point, and her potions book from last year, its pages well-worn from countless readings. Her mother had tried to convince her to throw it out, but Jamie insisted on keeping it, just in case she needed to look back. Potions was her favorite subject—next to Defense Against the Dark Arts. The only issue with the latter was the revolving door of professors; a new one each year was, frankly, exhausting. She wondered who would be taking the job this year.
Her gaze fell on another book, tucked discreetly on her shelf, its battered cover dim: Secrets of the Darkest Art. She hovered her hand over it, debating whether to bring it along. If she were caught with this, she could imagine a few eyebrows raising. After a moment’s hesitation, she shrugged and slipped it into her bag.
When she came downstairs, her parents were beaming at her. Her mother stepped forward, adjusting her scarf with that typical motherly fuss. “Make sure you figure out what you’re doing this year,” she said, both stern and excited. “You’ve got approximately 250 days to work it out, love,” she added, holding Jamie by the shoulders.
Her father smiled, rolling his eyes playfully at his wife. “But enjoy yourself, sweetheart. These are the years you’ll remember.”
“Yes, yes, alright,” Jamie said, raising her hands with mock impatience. “Don’t worry about me.” She made her way to the door, her father following with her trunk in tow.
“I bet Lorry will keep you in check…” her mother teased, locking the door in one hand and holding Crink’s cage in the other. “I’ll write to her to make sure! You don’t think I would, but I will!”
“I’ll write to you, I promise,” Jamie smiled, laughing at the playful banter. Her family’s humor and warmth filled her with reassurance.
Buckling herself into the car, Jamie felt a wave of excitement. She was going home.
————
As they drove through the busy London streets, Jamie watched the familiar sights pass by her window, a gentle hum of excitement building in her chest. With each turn, each familiar corner, the anticipation for the year ahead grew stronger. She was almost home.
In the front seat, her dad caught her thoughtful expression in the rearview mirror and grinned. “You know, when it was my second-to-last year at Hogwarts, my friends and I decided to show the younger ones how it was done,” he said, chuckling. “We’d done the platform routine a hundred times, so we acted like experts, full of ourselves. But as soon as we got to King’s Cross, one of my mates thought it’d be funny to try charging through the barrier first—and he hit the wrong part of the wall! Just bounced back like a sack of potatoes, right in front of everyone. We were in stitches.”
Jamie laughed, picturing her dad and his friends, still giddy with excitement even in their last years at school. Her mind drifted to her first day at Hogwarts, standing wide-eyed among the other first years. She’d braced herself for Hufflepuff, like her father, but when the Sorting Hat settled on her head, it only hesitated for a moment before declaring, “Gryffindor!” The cheers from her new house had filled her with pride.
She sent an owl home with the news, unsure how the owl would find her parents but sure enough, a week later, her father’s reply had been as warm as ever: “Gryffindor suits you, Jamie. You’re braver than you know.”
As they pulled up to King’s Cross, she stepped out into the buzz and bustle of the station, her mum and dad close by. Her mother squeezed her hand, her father lifting her trunk and Crink on to a trolley with ease. “Remember to keep your head up and enjoy it all,” he said, his eyes soft with pride. “You’re going to do great things this year.”
Navigating through the throngs of people, Jamie felt that familiar mix of excitement and nostalgia. At the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, she paused, her heart racing. Her parents stood back, watching her with the same look they’d had on her very first day. Her mum pulled her into one last hug, “Love you” she said into her ear.
With a final, warm glance back, Jamie turned to face the barrier. She took a deep breath, pushed forward with her trolley and a moment later, found herself on Platform 9¾, the gleaming red Hogwarts Express waiting to take her on her next adventure.