"Magical alchemy—definitely worth studying in depth."
Less than twenty minutes later, the enchanted car pulled up outside King's Cross Station. Declining Tonks' offer to escort him inside, George wheeled his trolley through the bustling crowd, mind racing.
The trip from the Leaky Cauldron hadn't been smooth—London traffic saw to that. But the Ministry vehicle's alchemical enhancements included advanced spatial magic. A single button press compressed the car, allowing it to slip through gaps narrower than a human.
This world's spells are wondrous, but its magical artifacts? Even more so.
Mastering alchemy could let him transform the mutant school into a fortress rivaling Hogwarts—impenetrable without his consent.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
Steering his trolley toward the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, George braced—then strode forward as if walking through water.
Reality rippled.
Before him stretched an entirely different platform, dominated by a scarlet steam engine emblazoned with: HOGWARTS EXPRESS · DEPARTS 11:00 AM.
He'd read about this marvel in Magical Transportation Through the Ages. Understanding wizarding history was key to navigating their world—many spells' origins and counters lay buried in old texts. Hence his daily study sessions.
Constructed in the early 1800s, the Express resulted from an unprecedented collaboration: Muggle engineers, railway workers, and Ministry wizards. Its creation required the largest coordinated use of Memory Charms and Muggle-Repelling Wards in history.
The push came from Minister Ottaline Gambol, who deemed Portkeys too hazardous for schoolchildren (annual disappearances were embarrassingly common). Steam trains inspired the solution. Pureblood protests? Crushed by the ultimatum: No train, no Hogwarts.
Now, the engine's smoke curled overhead as George boarded. Being early, he secured an empty compartment, stowed his trunk, and settled Peppa's cage in the corner.
"Sleep. No screeching at first-years."
With five hours to Hogwarts, he opened Fundamental Magical Theory—time wasted was knowledge lost.
Unexpected Company
As the platform filled with families and magical creatures, a voice pierced his focus:
"Blimey! Is that your owl? It's massive!"
A boy with a camera around his neck stood gaping in the doorway. Drawn by Peppa's size, he hauled in his trunk and snapped several photos before introducing himself:
"Colin Creevey! You?"
"George." He nodded, recognizing the name—Harry Potter's overzealous fanboy.
Colin proved relentlessly chatty, launching into his life story (Muggle-born, younger brother Dennis, spent his pet budget on a magical camera) and hero-worship of "the-Boy-Who-Lived."
"What about you, George?" Colin finally paused.
"Orphan. No family. Not much to tell."
Colin's grin faltered. "Er—so, what does an owl that big even eat?"
"Bubo bubo. Eurasian eagle-owl. Habitats range from forests to cliffs. Diet: rodents, hares, pheasants—occasionally frogs or snakes."
A dreamy voice answered from the corridor.
A small girl with silvery eyes and flyaway blonde hair stood there, her gaze unfocused. Everything about her seemed slightly... detached.
"They're also among the few owl species immune to basilisk gazes. Phoenixes being the other."
George's book snapped shut. "That last bit—I've never read it."
He'd researched Peppa's species thoroughly. Yet this claim—critical given the literal basilisk lurking at Hogwarts—was new.
The girl blinked slowly. "Oh. It's in Most Macabre Monstrosities. Page 227."
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