Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling, and the
first sentence belongs to JessicaCMalfoy at the Beginning Exchange on
fictionalley.com.
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Harry Potter looked out his window, straining his eyes for some sign of Hedwig. He had turned 17 yesterday, and still no word from any of his friends from the magical world. Finally, the snowy owl did turn up, but all she carried were the rumpled bodies of two mice, and Harry seriously doubted that they were intended as birthday presents. It wasn't that there was anything he really needed, but it wasn't like Ron or Hermione not to write. More puzzling still, he hadn't received his Hogwarts letter. He could only guess that no new books or equipment were required for the year.
His aunt and uncle were oblivious, of course, and September first found him in the Dursleys' car, on the way to King's Cross. Ron had, last June, extended the usual invitation to the Burrow for later in the summer, but no further word from the Weasleys had come. When they arrived, Harry was unceremoniously shoved out of the car, and his baggage tossed from the trunk.
The car sped quickly off, and Harry watched it go with a barely perceptible twinge of nostalgia. He knew full well that he was never going to see the Dursleys again. When he left Hogwarts this year, he was planning to stay in a room at the Leaky Cauldron until he sorted out exactly what it was that he would be doing as an adult. The prospect of being truly on his own, for the first time in his life, was both exciting and frightening.
Gradually, Harry realized that he was standing at the side of the road with his suitcases, as well as Hedwig's cage, strewn about him, staring off into space. A porter approached, asking dubiously if he needed help - though he did not specify what type of help, and Harry rather thought he meant the kind that only a doctor could provide. Never the less, he allowed the man to pile his luggage on the trolley, and he perched Hedwig on the top himself, then set out for platform nine and three-quarters.
As odd as things had been going, Harry was half-afraid that the barrier would not let him through - in which case, he would have merely stood back and screamed "DOBBY!" at the top of his lungs. However, the solid bricks gave under his touch, and his passage onto the platform was just the same as it had ever been.
What he saw on the other side, however, was not.
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Harry Potter looked out his window, straining his eyes for some sign of Hedwig. He had turned 17 yesterday, and still no word from any of his friends from the magical world. Finally, the snowy owl did turn up, but all she carried were the rumpled bodies of two mice, and Harry seriously doubted that they were intended as birthday presents. It wasn't that there was anything he really needed, but it wasn't like Ron or Hermione not to write. More puzzling still, he hadn't received his Hogwarts letter. He could only guess that no new books or equipment were required for the year.
His aunt and uncle were oblivious, of course, and September first found him in the Dursleys' car, on the way to King's Cross. Ron had, last June, extended the usual invitation to the Burrow for later in the summer, but no further word from the Weasleys had come. When they arrived, Harry was unceremoniously shoved out of the car, and his baggage tossed from the trunk.
The car sped quickly off, and Harry watched it go with a barely perceptible twinge of nostalgia. He knew full well that he was never going to see the Dursleys again. When he left Hogwarts this year, he was planning to stay in a room at the Leaky Cauldron until he sorted out exactly what it was that he would be doing as an adult. The prospect of being truly on his own, for the first time in his life, was both exciting and frightening.
Gradually, Harry realized that he was standing at the side of the road with his suitcases, as well as Hedwig's cage, strewn about him, staring off into space. A porter approached, asking dubiously if he needed help - though he did not specify what type of help, and Harry rather thought he meant the kind that only a doctor could provide. Never the less, he allowed the man to pile his luggage on the trolley, and he perched Hedwig on the top himself, then set out for platform nine and three-quarters.
As odd as things had been going, Harry was half-afraid that the barrier would not let him through - in which case, he would have merely stood back and screamed "DOBBY!" at the top of his lungs. However, the solid bricks gave under his touch, and his passage onto the platform was just the same as it had ever been.
What he saw on the other side, however, was not.