Chapter 4
The bustling platform at King’s Cross held families saying their goodbyes, high stacks of luggage trolleys, and impatiently hooting owls in cages. The air buzzed with excitement. But just a few feet away from the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, Jayce and Viktor stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and apprehension.
“It’s a wall,” Viktor said flatly, his arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s not a wall,” Severus drawled, his tone laced with exasperation. “It’s an enchanted barrier. Walk through it, and you’ll find the platform.”
“Walk through it?!” Jayce exclaimed, looking utterly incredulous. “It looks solid!” He gave it a tentative knock, as if to confirm its solidity.
“It is solid,” Viktor added. “You’re insane.”
Jinx, standing off to the side, grinned wickedly. “Oh, this is too good.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took a running start and hurtled toward the barrier, laughing gleefully as she disappeared through it.
Jayce and Viktor stared, their jaws dropping.
“She just-” Jayce sputtered.
“Disappeared,” Viktor finished, frowning at the wall like it had personally offended him.
Harry, standing beside Severus, couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to trust it.”
“Trust it,” Viktor repeated skeptically. “You’re asking a lot, kid.”
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Must we turn everything into a spectacle? Just follow me.” Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the barrier and walked through it without breaking his stride.
Harry grinned at Jayce and Viktor. “See? Easy.” He pushed his trolley forward and disappeared after Severus.
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance, still hesitant.
“On three?” Jayce suggested.
Viktor sighed. “If I break my nose, you’re paying for the Doctor’s visit.”
“Deal.”
They counted down, took a deep breath, and bolted toward the barrier. To their astonishment, and immense relief, they emerged on the other side unscathed, where Jinx was waiting for them with an exaggerated slow clap.
“Bravo,” she teased. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jayce muttered, still looking slightly dazed.
Harry laughed as he joined the group. “Told you it wasn’t that hard.”
Severus gave them all a withering glare. “If we’re quite finished, the train isn’t going to wait for you to overcome your next existential crisis. Move.”
They turned to look at the platform and the sight that greeted them left Jayce and Viktor momentarily speechless. The gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express billowed steam into the air, and the platform was alive with bustling witches and wizards, chattering students, and parents giving last-minute hugs. Owls hooted from their cages, cats wound through people’s legs, and the general hum of magic was palpable.
Jayce took a step forward, his eyes wide as they darted over every detail. “This… this is incredible,” he murmured, as if afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the illusion.
Viktor nodded silently; his usual composed expression replaced by one of quiet wonder. He glanced back at the barrier they had just passed through, then forward to the magical scene in front of them. “It’s… something else,” he admitted, his voice low with awe.
Jinx, however, seemed entirely unphased by the magic surrounding them. “Yeah, yeah, it’s pretty. Whatever.” She adjusted her grip on her trolley and glanced around the platform with a sharp eye. Spotting her targets near the back of the train, her face lit up with mischievous glee.
“Where are you going?” Jayce asked, noticing her sudden shift in focus.
“To find my new best friends,” Jinx replied with a wicked grin, already pushing her trolley through the crowd.
Severus turned just in time to see her weave away from the group. “Jinx,” he barked, his tone clipped. “Stay with-”
But she was already gone, disappearing through the throng of students with alarming agility.
Jayce sighed. “Think she’s off to plan world domination?”
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Viktor replied, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile.
Harry, standing by his trolley, watched her dart away with a shake of his head. “She’s probably looking for Fred and George,” he said.
“And that,” Severus muttered darkly, “is precisely the problem.”
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a look before Jayce clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Well, we’d better make sure she doesn’t blow anything up before the train leaves.”
“Good luck with that,” Harry said, chuckling as the two hurried after Jinx.
Severus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One week,” he muttered under his breath. “We haven’t even started the term yet, and she’s already a menace.”
Harry stifled a laugh as Severus pushed his own trolley toward the train, muttering something about “insufferable miscreants” while the platform buzzed with magical energy around them.
Jayce and Viktor guided Harry to the side of the Hogwarts Express, helping him lift his trunk onto the train with relative ease. Hedwig hooted softly from her cage, perched atop the trolley. Jayce gave the snowy owl an amused look.
“Make sure you keep an eye on him, yeah?” he said, his tone half-joking as he gently tapped the cage.
Hedwig fluffed her feathers, her amber eyes sharp as if she understood.
Harry grinned. “She always does.”
Viktor adjusted his grip, ensuring Harry’s trunk was properly stowed. “We’ll see you at school,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “We’ll arrive before you do, using the Floo. If you need anything, find us once you’re there.”
Jayce ruffled Harry’s hair playfully. “And don’t forget to have some fun, kid. It’s school, but it doesn’t have to be all serious.”
Harry ducked his head with a small, bashful smile. “I’ll try.”
Before they could say more, Ron and Hermione came running over, their faces lighting up when they spotted Harry.
“Harry!” Hermione called, waving enthusiastically.
“Hey, mate!” Ron grinned, slightly out of breath. “There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you!”
Jayce and Viktor stepped aside, giving Harry’s friends’ space. Harry turned to them, his expression torn between gratitude and a hint of nervousness.
“Thanks for everything,” he said softly.
Jayce gave him a wink. “We’ll see you soon, Harry. Don’t forget, we’ve got your back.”
Viktor nodded, a faint smile on his face. “See you at the castle.”
The two stepped back as Ron, and Hermione eagerly started chatting with Harry. Jayce and Viktor waved one last time before making their way off the platform.
As the final whistle blew, the train began to chug forward, steam billowing into the air. Harry leaned out of the window, waving to Jayce, Viktor, and Severus, who stood further down the platform, arms crossed but a faint softness in his expression.
“Goodbye!” Harry called, his voice bright with excitement.
Jayce cupped his hands around his mouth. “Take care of yourself, kid!”
Viktor raised a hand in a brief but heartfelt wave.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the bustling train corridors, the unmistakable sounds of popping and crackling fireworks abruptly interrupted their conversation coming from the rear of the train. Shouts and laughter echoed through the air, followed by what sounded like a chorus of gasps and splattering noises.
“What on earth-” Hermione began, her brows furrowing as she turned toward the source of the commotion.
The three hurried to the back of the train, weaving through the throng of students, who were pressing their faces against the windows to watch the spectacle outside. Reaching an open window themselves, they peered out, and Harry felt his jaw drop.
Bright, multicolored fireworks exploded over the platform in dazzling shapes, dragons, brooms, and what looked suspiciously like a giant nose blowing itself up. Simultaneously, paint bombs burst against the ground in chaotic splashes of vibrant reds, blues, and yellows, splattering the departing parents in harmless but vividly messy sprays.
Harry spotted Jinx standing proudly on the rear platform of the train, arms crossed and a satisfied smirk plastered on her face. Beside her, Fred and George Weasley were laughing so hard they were clutching their sides, clearly reveling in the chaos they had orchestrated.
“I should have known,” Ron muttered, a mixture of horror and admiration on his face. “That’s got Fred and George written all over it.”
“And Jinx,” Hermione added sharply, her voice tinged with exasperation. “What on earth is she thinking? This is going to cause so much trouble!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh, the sight of the platform now resembling a chaotic abstract painting too much to ignore. Parents waved their arms in mock outrage or shouted playful threats, while others looked outright amused. Severus stood near the Floo point, his expression an impressive combination of fury and resignation as a streak of neon green paint splattered across his robes.
Jinx leaned back against the railing, her golden eyes glinting mischievously under the faint shimmer of her glamour. She spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione staring from the window and gave them a cheeky wave.
“You’ve got to admire the creativity,” Harry said, grinning despite himself.
“I don’t,” Hermione snapped, crossing her arms. “She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get detention before the term even starts!”
“Well, it’s definitely memorable,” Ron said with a chuckle, shaking his head.
The twins joined Jinx in a synchronized bow, their theatrical flourish drawing a mix of laughter and groans from the crowd. As the train pulled further away, the fireworks reached a grand finale, a brilliant explosion that spelled out, “See you next summer!” in sparkling letters across the sky.
As the trio moved back to find an empty compartment, Harry couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. Jinx might be a little chaotic, but there was no denying she was already making this year unforgettable.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally found an almost empty compartment toward the back of the train. The only occupant was a man who looked like he’d been through a long and rough night. He was slumped in his seat, his head resting against the window, his shabby robes worn and patched in several places. His face was pale and lined, and there were faint shadows under his closed eyes.
“Do you think he’s asleep?” Ron whispered, glancing nervously at the man.
“Probably,” Hermione said softly, though her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed the hollow look to his cheeks.
Harry hesitated before sliding the door open. The man stirred slightly at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes. “Looks like there’s space for us,” Harry said, stepping inside.
As Harry moved to sit down on the bench next to the man, the stranger twitched violently, almost jerking upright. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, Harry saw something sharp and wary in them before they softened.
“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, wondering if he’d startled him.
The man shook his head faintly and offered a weak smile. “No, it’s fine,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but kind. “Go ahead, sit. Don’t mind me.”
Harry sat down cautiously, his gaze flicking to the man, who now seemed to be focused on steadying his breathing. His hand twitched slightly, his fingers gripping the armrest of his seat. Harry felt a strange pang of sympathy for him, he looked exhausted, like someone who’d just finished fighting a losing battle.
Ron and Hermione took the opposite bench, Ron glancing uneasily at the man while Hermione opened a book.
“Wonder who he is,” Ron muttered under his breath.
“Shh,” Hermione hissed, nudging him. “Don’t be rude.”
The train began to move, and Harry noticed the man’s posture relaxing slightly, though he still looked on edge. For a while, the compartment was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the train wheels and the rustle of pages as Hermione read.
Harry couldn’t help but glance at the man every so often, his curiosity piqued. There was something oddly familiar about him, though Harry couldn’t quite place it.
The man noticed Harry’s gaze and gave him a small, tired smile. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
Harry blinked. “Oh, I didn’t think-”
“It’s all right,” the man interrupted gently. “I get that a lot.”
There was a strange pause, and then the man’s head lolled back against the window again, as if the effort of speaking had drained him. Hermione looked up briefly, frowning, but didn’t say anything.
As the train rolled on, Harry leaned back in his seat, trying not to disturb the man further. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something unusual about him. Something that made Harry feel both curious and oddly uneasy at the same time.
As the train continued its journey, the man slumped back into a restless sleep, his head against the window, occasionally twitching as if caught in an unpleasant dream. Harry glanced at him briefly before turning his attention to Hermione, who was flipping through her book.
“Hermione,” Harry said softly, leaning forward. “Do you remember Tom Riddle’s diary?”
Hermione’s head snapped up, her brow furrowing. “Of course I do,” she said, her voice equally low, as if not wanting to disturb the sleeping man. “Why?”
“Well...” Harry hesitated, glancing at Ron, who was half-listening but mostly focused on trying to open a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. “I’ve been thinking about what Riddle said. He called himself a memory.”
Hermione’s eyes widened slightly. “He did, didn’t he?” she said thoughtfully, leaning closer. “But he wasn’t like a regular memory. Not like a Pensieve or anything like that.”
“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “He was... alive, in a way. He could talk, think, even control Ginny. That’s not how memories are supposed to work, is it?”
“No, not at all,” Hermione said, her voice taking on that familiar tone of intellectual curiosity. “A memory is usually just a recording of events, like a photograph you can walk through. But Riddle was interactive. He changed. He grew stronger somehow.”
Ron, now munching on a questionable-looking bean, joined in. “Yeah, but how? It was just a book, right? Books don’t do that.”
“Not normal books,” Hermione said, her tone sharp. “But Riddle’s diary wasn’t normal. It had... some kind of magic we’ve never seen before.”
Harry frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s strange, though. He said he was a memory, but it felt like he was more than that. Like a piece of him was... inside the book.”
Hermione’s eyes flickered with realization, though she hesitated. “If that’s true, then... the magic used must have been incredibly dark. Ancient, even. Splitting oneself like that, it’s... unnatural.”
“You’re saying Riddle put part of himself into the diary?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. “How’s that even possible?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, looking troubled. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. A memory shouldn’t be able to think for itself. It’s almost like-”
She paused, glancing at the sleeping man as if suddenly wary of being overheard, then leaned in closer to Harry and Ron. “It’s almost like Riddle found a way to anchor part of his soul to the diary.”
Ron choked on his bean. “His soul? That’s mad.”
Harry nodded slowly, his mind spinning. “It is mad. But Riddle was mad, wasn’t he? He’d do anything to keep himself alive. Maybe he found a way.”
Hermione bit her lip, looking deeply unsettled. “If he did, then that diary wasn’t just dangerous, it was a piece of him. Destroying it was probably the only way to truly get rid of him.”
Harry’s hand tightened around the book in his bag, and without thinking, he pulled it out, placing it on the table in front of them. The room seemed to fall still, the weight of his action sinking in.
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. “Harry, you still have it?” she whispered, her voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. “But, why? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Ron leaned forward, staring at the book in confusion. “Wait, you said you’d destroyed it, back in the Chamber. What’s going on?”
Harry’s fingers lingered on the worn cover, his gaze fixed on the book’s surface. It was just a book, but in his hands, it felt like something more, something familiar and unsettling.
“I lied to Dumbledore,” Harry confessed, his voice low, almost as if speaking the words out loud made them real for the first time. “I told him I killed it. But I didn’t. I stabbed it once with the basilisk fang. It... it didn’t die. I left it in the Chamber, thinking it would fade away.”
Hermione’s mouth opened, then closed. “But Harry, why didn’t you? Why didn’t you destroy it properly?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, his voice strained. “Something about it... I felt connected to it, like there was something inside it that called to me. It’s strange, but I couldn’t just leave it there. And now... I think it’s growing weaker. It feels like it’s barely there, like it’s hanging on by a thread.”
Hermione looked horrified. “You’re saying it’s alive, still?”
Harry nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the diary, his mind racing. “I think it’s fighting to stay alive, but... it’s getting weaker. I’m not sure what that means, though. Maybe it’s because I’m not... destroying it. I don’t know what to do.”
Ron’s brow furrowed. “So, you’re thinking of saving it? Keeping it alive?”
Harry bit his lip, wrestling with his thoughts. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks it’s wrong to just leave it. If it’s still alive, maybe I should try to help it. But then, I can’t forget what it did to Ginny, to everyone. Maybe it’s just better to get rid of it for good.”
Hermione shook her head, clearly unsettled. “But Harry, don’t you think that’s dangerous? You can’t know what would happen if you try to keep it alive, or if you save it. It’s not just some innocent book.”
“I know,” Harry said quietly, his eyes dark. “But I feel like... maybe I owe it something. I don’t know why.”
The silence hung in the air like a heavy fog as Harry continued to stare at the book, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. He didn’t know why, but part of him wanted to save Tom Riddle. The connection between them, whatever it was, felt important, too important to just let go. But then he remembered Ginny, and the others, and the terror the diary had caused.
Hermione, always the curious one, leaned forward, her brow furrowed in thought. “But what if there’s more to it? I mean, what if it’s not just a diary? What if it could give us some kind of insight into Riddle, into how he became the way he is?” Her voice was a mixture of worry and fascination, her intellect unable to ignore the mystery that the diary represented.
Before Harry could respond, the train suddenly lurched to a stop with a grinding screech. The sudden halt threw them all off balance, and Harry barely managed to grab hold of the edge of the seat to steady himself.
A strange, frigid chill swept through the compartment, seeping into Harry’s bones like an icy wind. His breath hitched as he looked around, instinctively shrinking back into his seat. There was something wrong, something in the air that made his skin crawl. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the man across the aisle stir, his body tense as he reacted to the sudden disturbance. Concentration drew the man’s features, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the door.
Before Harry could say anything, the door to the compartment opened slowly, and an overwhelming wave of coldness flooded in. A figure appeared, its form dark and indistinct, cloaked in shadow. The air grew thick, suffocating, and Harry felt his heart race in panic as his vision blurred, his mind struggling to stay conscious.
And then everything went black.
When Harry came to, he was lying back against the seat, his head aching fiercely. His body felt strangely heavy, like the weight of an unseen force was pressing down on him. He blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind.
Above him stood the man from the compartment, his face shadowed with concern. Though reluctant, as if forced, he showed a flicker of protectiveness in his gaze. The man was holding something in his hand, a bar of chocolate.
“Eat this,” the man said gruffly, pushing the chocolate toward Harry. “It will help. You’ve been attacked by a Dementor. Chocolate helps to counter the effects.”
Dementor. The word registered in Harry’s mind, but it made no sense. He had never heard of such a thing before, and yet, looking at the man, there was something in the air that suggested the creature was far from ordinary. The word seemed to send a chill through him, and Harry found himself shaking.
The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before his gaze softened slightly, but only for a brief moment. “I need to go speak with the conductor. Stay here. Eat the chocolate. It will help you recover.”
Harry took the chocolate, his hand still trembling as he unwrapped it. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but the memory of that cold, soul-chilling presence lingered like a nightmare in the back of his mind.
The man turned, his form lingering by the door for just a moment, before he vanished, leaving Harry and his friends in a stunned silence.
Ron, still pale, looked at Harry in disbelief. “What just happened? What were those things?”
Hermione, her eyes wide and filled with fear, looked to Harry for answers. But all Harry could do was slowly unwrap the chocolate and take a bite. It wasn’t much, but the sweetness filled his mouth, and for the first time since the attack, he felt a little warmth return to his body.
“That...” Harry began, but his voice felt weak. “That was... I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s over. Whatever those things were... they’re dangerous.”
Ron shook his head, still looking rattled. “But why would they be here? On the train?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered, her voice tight. “But we’ll figure it out. We have to.”
The train’s eerie silence pressed on, but the presence of the strange man, who had saved Harry, lingered in their minds, his brief words about the Dementor and chocolate somehow comforting in their own mysterious way.