I exhaled slowly, blowing a loose piece of clinging, wet, brown hair away from my lips. The rain pounded my back mercilessly, soaking my scant belongings (not to mention myself) to the core. My thin plastic poncho beat my arms and face in the wind, leaving my skin stinging and burning. The weather did nothing to ease my nerves. I'll admit I was scared—no, terrified. It was bad enough that I was alone. It was bad enough that no one believed me; that everyone thought that I was caught up in some hoax. My parents called me immature, my friends called me crazy. It was four years ago that I received the first letter. It had been an invitation of sorts—a letter in the mail. The fact that it was from a place that no one had ever heard of in far-off Europe made it even stranger. My family had laughed. My father commented on how poorly of a job the pranksters had done at pretending that this place was a real school.
"Hogwarts?" He had chortled, "I'm definitely convinced to come now! The school must be named after a local pork dish." He then studied the letter carefully, turning it over in his hands. "Hmm, what I don't understand is why someone would go to all the trouble just for a prank. This is handwritten! Haha! They really put a lot of work into this." He chuckled. "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore. I'm sure you'll find that one at the local Border's."
"It says I've been accepted…" I mumbled. My mother stared at me sympathetically. By the look her face you could have guessed that she was explaining to a four-year-old kid that Santa Claus wasn't real.
"Uh, you do know that this place isn't real, don't you? I mean, come on honey, you know that this is just a joke, right? It's not real."
I was eleven years old then. I've heard those same words almost every day for the last three years. It's not real. I have become deaf to them. I don't know how or why, but ever since I can remember, I've always felt that there's something more out there. Something other than what everyone else is content to see every day. I needed something more. I still have that first letter—I've kept it hidden. The words have been stamped into my brain; I can recite them perfectly. It was that fateful day, when the letter was found on my doorstep, that changed my life forever. I was more alert from then on, always looking for signs of something…else. I didn't know what I was looking for. Neither did anyone else. My parents grew worried that this letter had put bad ideas into my head, or that I was unstable because I was at what they deemed to be a "rebellious age." I think the whole time I was just looking for a sign; something to say, "It's there. You're not crazy, and you're not too gullible; there's something out there." So I saved my money for a ticket to London. Every year, in about July, an almost exact copy of the letter from this "Hogwarts" came. Sometimes more than one letter would come, right up until September first. The only difference between each years' letter was the supplies list. The letters were a bit strange though, at least in the way that they appeared (other than the fact that they talked about magical schools on separate continents). The letters would never appear in our mailbox or any other place you would expect to find a letter. They would always be slipped under the front door, or on the doorstep—sometimes even wedged in or underneath windows! The fourth letter had arrived a couple weeks ago. My father shook his head when he found it on the doorstep.
"This Minerva McGonagall is a very determined woman! Those pranksters obviously don't know when to stop—it's pathetic really, that they take the time to send a letter each year, changing the stupid list…" I heard him mutter through my open window.
I had been waiting for the letter to come this year. I've always waited in past years, but this year was different. It was the final confirmation for me. I had more than enough money for a plane ticket to London, and I guessed that there would be enough left over to buy my supplies for this year. This letter was the final push for me to go for it—I was going to go see what this "Hogwarts" place was all about. If it were real, I only hoped it wouldn't be a problem if I were missing the supplies and education from the past four years. If it really was 'magical' they would probably be able to put some kind of hat on my head that would teach me everything, right? Of course, if and when I did get to London, I had absolutely no idea whatsoever where I would end up buying these magical items—even the Internet (where I had always assumed you could buy anything you ever wanted) had no hints where to buy a wand or witches' robes. The closest I'd come to was Hilda's Horrible Halloween costume stores. Still, no matter what, I felt that it was time to sort all of this out. Something in the back of my mind told me it was the right thing to do.
Another blast of wind pelted me with icy daggers of rain. The thin poncho I wore caused me more pain than protection; the rain had found its way through a long time ago. As I slowly walked inside the train station, the shelter from the rain bathed me in warmth like a wool blanket. I felt the stares of many and heard murmurs from all around. I caught bits and pieces.
"All by herself, and so young!"
"Soaked to the skin, poor dear…"
"Such 'orrible weather outside, eh? She looks freezing."
I had never been on a train before and was at a loss for what to do. It was pure luck that I had gotten this far. After watching me circle the airport inside and out several times, a kind man had asked me if I needed a ride. He generously drove me all the way to King's Cross Station in the dreadful weather. Unfortunately, he had dropped me off in the parking lot of the station, and I had to not only walk through the stinging rain, but I also had to figure out for myself how to find the train I was supposed to be on.
I pulled out the now damp and runny ticket that had been enclosed in the most recent Hogwarts letter. "King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, 11 o'clock, September the first…" I muttered to myself. Glancing around the station nervously, I noticed a clock on the wall. It was already 10:45! Quickening my pace, I hurried towards some numbered signs I saw in the distance. Each one stood by an odd structure, which I assumed was a platform. Hmm, I thought to myself, there's eight, nine, ten…Wait! Where's nine and three-quarters!
I heard a small cough behind me. Turning around, I saw a uniformed man who looked to be in his twenties standing behind me. Still terrified and wondering what on earth I was doing in England at all, I barely managed to squeak.
"Y-y-yes?" I stuttered.
"Can I assist you at all?" He asked, smiling a little.
"I-I-if you don't mind," I said, my teeth still chattering from the cold, "I'm looking for a platform nine and three-quarters. You see, I've never been on a train before—actually I've never even been to England, I mean—"
"Wait, stop!" he interrupted, "What platform did you say you were looking for?"
"Um…" I pulled out my ticket again and squinted at the running ink. "Nine and three-quarters." The man cleared his throat loudly and sighed in exasperation.
"Miss, I am terribly sorry that you are soaking and freezing, and it is perfectly understandable for you to seek shelter from the cold in here, but I am afraid that making a fake ticket and searching for nonexistent platforms and trains, not to mention asking for my help, that is going a little bit too far." His voice was now cold and lacked the kindness it had been full of seconds earlier.
"But, sir," I protested, "I didn't make this up! I'm serious, I have to be on the Hogwarts Express by eleven, or I'll be left behind! Please, I need your help…" I was panicking now. If I didn't find the train, I would be stuck here. I had realized on the plane that I had only a one-way ticket to London. If Hogwarts did fail to exist, not only would I face eternal wrath from my parents, humiliation from my siblings and friends, but I would also be stuck here—where! the train station? the streets!—for days until I found a way to contact my parents.
He responded coldly again, this time not even bothering to hide his impatience. "Look, I don't have time for this. Now either go find the right train, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If your train is delayed, you can stay here until it shows up, but if you are here just to mess around, you're going to have to find somewhere else."
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped in surprise, almost knocking over my only rolling suitcase. "She's with me, I'm sorry for the trouble. She's really tired and jet-lagged. Thank you," A female voice not much older than my own said.
"All right then! Good day to you both," responded the man, "I suppose I'll be off now."
"Um…Th-thank you," I said, turning around. My eyes met the face of a kind-looking girl who appeared to be about 16 years of age. She was taller than me and had a British accent. Her hair was frizzy and brown, not much unlike my own, except that hers was several shades lighter. Behind her, she had a large trunk and a cage with an orange cat inside. She looked me over and smiled.
"It was no problem. Actually, I've been waiting for you! I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner; I didn't see you at first in the crowd."
"It's all right," I responded, still a little shaken and very confused as to what was happening. "But, how did you know I was coming? Who are you? Why were you waiting for me? Do you know how to get onto platform—"
"Wait, slow down!" She laughed, "We'll get there. Let's start with the basics. My name is Hermione Granger, I'm 16 years old, and I'm a—" She lowered her voice. "I'm a witch too. Professor Dumbledore has sent me here—he's the Headmaster at Hogwarts, of course—what's wrong!"
My eyes had grown unhealthily wide. My mouth was open. My face was drained of all blood and color. My breath was ragged; my whole body was shaking. Hermione's eyebrows drew together and a look of worry washed over her face.
"Hey! What's wrong? HEY! Are you all right!" Hermione was panicky now. "Hey! SAY SOMETHING!"
"H…Hog…Hogwarts…is…real?" I breathed after a few minutes. There is no word in the English language to describe my utter relief and astonishment. Stunned wouldn't cover it; neither would abashed, aghast, alarmed, astonished, any of the above, or below. I felt tears well up. My eyes burned. Why the heck am I crying about this? I asked myself, I don't even know what it is. I don't know what I'm doing here, or even where I'm going. I don't know this girl, and already I feel more attached to her than the closest sibling I could ever have. Why does this feel so, so…right? What's happening to me?
Hermione slowly smiled and put an arm around my shoulders. "Yes," she whispered, "It's real. It's all there." She choked up a little bit. "It's the most amazing place you could ever go to in your life. I know that you're going to love it there. Just right on the other side of that wall," she pointed in between platforms nine and ten, "Lies the Hogwarts Express. You'll soon find it to be the place where you feel more at home than in your own bed, and you'll find it better than anything you could ever had possibly dreamed of."
"Right on the other side of that wall…" I whispered. I felt behind me for the handle of my suitcase, felt beside me for Hermione's hand, and took the first step towards a simple train ride that would change my life forever.