At a quarter past ten, eleven-year-old Mary Potter stood dumbstruck as her Uncle Vernon unloaded her belongings from the car and placed them on a trolley. Even more shocking, he wheeled it into the station for her. Her Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley remained in the car, Petunia reading her book club's latest novel, and Dudley playing his Gameboy. Neither seemed to notice this random act of kindness.
King's Cross train station was bustling with the usual late Saturday morning bustle, as weekend commuters filtered into London for work and leisure. One of them recognized her uncle, but Uncle Vernon didn't blanche as she'd expected him to.
"Good morning, Mr Dursley! What brings you to these parts?" he asked.
"Just seeing my niece off," he replied, matching the man's joviality. "Summer's over, and so is her stay."
Ah, yes, Mary thought. I'm only a guest.
"And your son is doing well? I overheard that you're taking him to the hospital for surgery. Are you sure you don't want to take next week off?"
"No, no!" Uncle Vernon replied, waving dismissively. "What can I do but sit and worry if I'm not at the office? It's just an outpatient procedure, and he'll be right as rain, come tomorrow!"
"If you're sure," the man conceded, extending his hand. "Just let me know if you or the wife need anything."
"Thank you, we appreciate it," said Uncle Vernon, accepting the handshake.
The man nodded to Mary and disappeared into the crowd. She decided to hazard a glance up at her uncle, expecting him to glower back at her, but his cheerful disposition did not waver. Of course, he didn't look down at her, so there was nothing for him to glower about. He continued to the platforms, nodding and smiling to passersby, before coming to an abrupt stop. Then he did smile down at her, and the reason became clear.
"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine – platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, have they?"
Mary looked from the large number nine posted over one platform, to the ten on the other. Her mouth went dry and she felt her meager breakfast curdle. Uncle Vernon laughed and stepped away.
"Have a nice term!"
When she looked away from the platform numbers, he was gone. She imagined that he, her Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley were having a very good laugh over her current predicament. Uncle Vernon had stopped her cart in the middle of the walkway, causing a bit of congestion for the commuters. A bright, snowy owl fluffed her feathers irritably as someone bumped into one of Mary's trunks.
"Sorry!" Mary called over the load.
With a grunt, she got the wheels rolling and moved towards the nearest bench. She sat down and pulled her ticket out, studying the departure location and time. Thinking quickly, Mary asked a passing conductor about the train that left at eleven o'clock for Hogwarts. This drew a confused expression across his face, but he informed her that there was no train leaving at that time, and he'd never heard of Hogwarts.
The conductor handed her a copy of the weekend schedule and wished her a safe trip, "Wherever it is your going."
Of course Hogwarts isn't on here, she lamented.
"What do we do, Hedwig?" she asked the snowy owl.
The nocturnal creature gave a soft hoo and put her face under her wing. Mary was tempted to follow suit, for all the good any suggestion would do. She was stranded in the middle of a train station, with a trunk full of odd textbooks and school supplies, and a currency in her pockets that wouldn't do her any good. Neither the journey nor destination were a pleasant thought.
Mary had spent the past month a virtual ghost to her family, ever since she'd received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on her eleventh birthday. She pulled the folded and battered parchment out of her jacket to re-read it, just in case it contained any words of wisdom she'd missed.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
Mary scanned the list, even though she knew it wouldn't contain any advice.
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
No, none of that would be very helpful at all.
The clock chimed at ten forty-five and Mary began to panic. Just then, a red-haired girl stopped to smile at Hedwig, when a plump woman absently took her hand and pulled her away, muttering, "– packed with Muggles, of course –"
Muggles! Mary had heard that word, once before, when she received her acceptance letter. It was a term magical people used to describe the non-magical.
The matronly witch appeared to be conducting a swarm. A proud-looking boy, older that Mary, with hair matching the girl's shade, strode smartly ahead, followed by another who might be more Mary's age. Twin boys, with hair to match the rest of the family's, followed behind with a trolley apiece. As they passed, Mary noticed that they also had an owl!
"Okay, Percy, you go first!" said the plump woman.
"Thank you, mother," the older boy replied.
Mary watched intently as he walked towards the barrier that divided platforms nine and ten. Just then, a crowd of tourists passed by, and the boy vanished. His mother gave a relieved sigh, and she called to her nearest son.
"Fred, you next," she directed.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George!" he cried.
"Honestly, woman," teased his twin, "You call yourself our mother?"
"Sorry, George, dear."
The second boy pushed ahead and disappeared behind another crowd, while the first said, "Just kidding, Mom. I am Fred!"
She directed an upward swing at the air near his left ear as he laughed and darted off. Mary was now certain that they were timing their disappearance with the passing groups, because she missed how he'd done it, too.
"Hurry along, Ron!" she called, as the fourth boy forced a fussy rat into his coat pocket.
The crowd had thinned considerably then, but Mary was no longer taking any chances.
"Excuse me," she said, putting a hand on Hedwig's cage for support. "How did you…"
"Oh, first year at Hogwarts, dear?"
Mary replied with a sheepish nod.
"It's Ron's first year, too! All you need to do is point your trolley toward that barrier, and walk right through."
"That's it?" Mary asked, a fresh wave of butterflies rising in her belly.
"That's it," the lady assured her. "Here, why don't go ahead of Ron, and we'll be right behind you. Best take it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."
The younger girl positioned Mary's trolley for her, stepped back, and said, "Good luck!"
Good luck?
Another crowd spilled out of platform 10, and Mary took that as her cue. She inhaled, leaned into her trolley, and began to trot. The barrier was coming closer. She was gaining speed. She was going to crash and Hedwig was going to be smooshed! Mary closed her eyes and braced for the inevitable impact.
She didn't crash. She kept running and she felt sunlight wash over her. Mary opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a scarlet steam engine with a sign overhead reading: Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. She looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Ron materialized through the barrier, followed closely by his mother and sister. Mary tried not to gawk.
All around her, people were dressed in colorful robes, pushing trolleys with disgruntled owls, and greeting friends who hadn't seen each other all summer. One girl picked up an enormous black cat that lazily draped itself around her shoulders like an elegant boa. It stretched and its fur ruffled, showing that it wasn't black, at all, but a deep purple!
Mary gawked.
"Would you like to pet her?" the older girl offered. "She's super friendly!"
Mary reached up to scratch the feline behind the ears, eliciting a deep rumble that must've been a purr. The Dursleys had an old neighbor who lived with a dozen cats. Every year, on Dudley's birthday, his parents would take him and a friend to a theme park, a nice restaurant for supper, and to see a movie. Mary was always left behind with Mrs Figg.
Mrs Figg was nice enough, but her entire house smelled like boiled cabbage, and she always found a reason to share a photo album stuffed with pictures of cats that she used to own. Mary would spend the day feigning interest, often holding an old cat in her lap while the younger ones romped, slept, or chittered at birds through the window. None of them were purple!
"Gemma!" another girl shouted to her.
Gemma gave Mary a conspiratorial smile and said, "See you at Hogwarts!" then dashed off to join her friend.
Mary wondered if she'd make friends at Hogwarts. Her former classmates had always tolerated her, but as Dudley's much-despised cousin, everyone knew to stear clear. Despite their similarity in age, Dudley was easily four times her size –
…and four times as stupid, Mary would say, if anyone had ever asked.
– so nobody would cross him.
Nevertheless, he had a dedicated group of friends who would follow his lead. They took turns stealing Mary's glasses, breaking them, and sticking all manner of nasty gunk in her unruly black hair, which always grew back whenever Aunt Petunia attempted to cut it. The last time, it was shaped into a bowl cut, exposing her ears, but covering "that hideous scar" that split into a thin lightning bolt across her forehead. Mary couldn't sleep, that night, imagining how her peers would taunt her. When she awoke the next morning, Aunt Petunia shrieked to find Mary's shoulder-length hair restored.
Rolling up to the Hogwarts Express luggage car, Mary tried to heave her trunk onboard. Instead, she succeeded in slipping twice and dropping the corner on her toe.
"Hey! You want a hand with that?" It was one of the red-haired twins she'd followed through the barrier.
"Yes, please," Mary replied, stifling a cry of pain.
"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"
With the twins' help, Mary's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.
"What should I do with Hedwig?" Mary asked.
"Hedwig, huh? Hang her cage there," Fred pointed, "and she can sit on your shoulder during the trip."
"Here, I'll get it for ya!" George offered.
"Thanks," said Mary, pushing sweaty tresses out of her eyes.
"What's that?" asked one Fred, pointing at Mary's forehead.
"Blimey," exclaimed George. "Are you — ?"
"She is!" Fred asserted. "Aren't you?" he quickly added to Mary.
"What? Who?" asked Mary, growing more wary.
"Mary Potter," the twins intoned.
"Oh, her," said Mary. "I mean, yes, I am. Her, that is."
The two boys now gawked at her, and Mary felt herself turning red. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.
"Fred? George? Are you there?"
"Coming, Mum!" With a last look at Mary, the twins hopped off the train.
Mary took the opportunity to scramble further inside, slipping between the luggage to a passenger car, and settled into the first empty compartment. She cracked the window open, letting in fresh air, which carried the voices of students saying goodbye to their parents, and parents asking last-minute questions before letting their children go.
"Ron," said a familiar voice, "you've got something on your nose."
The family was standing right outside Mary's window, and she sunk low to peer out.
"Mum! Geroff!" Ron squawked. He wriggled free as his older brothers teased him.
"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" cooed one of the twins.
"Shut up," snapped Ron.
"Where's Percy?" asked their mother.
"There, he's coming now," said the sister.
The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Mary noticed a shiny red-and-gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said, very properly. "I'm up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise.
"You should have said something, we had no idea," said the other.
"Hang on," said the first twin. "I think I remember him saying something about it, maybe once –"
"Or twice –"
"A minute –"
"All summer –"
"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect. Standing half a head taller than their mother, he kissed her on the cheek and strolled to the front car.
Mary stifled a giggle and listened to their mother warn the twins about their behavior.
"If I receive one more owl telling me you've blown up a toilet–"
"We've never blown up a toilet," one of them interrupted in thoughtful wonder.
"Great idea, Mum!" the other laughed.
"I'm serious!" she sternly warned. "And look after your brother."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us," said one, as the other solemnly said, "You know we can never keep Percy out of trouble."
Ickle Ronniekins' annoyed sputtering was cut short as one of the twins said, "Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"
Mary sunk deeper so they couldn't see her peering out.
"You know that black-haired girl who was near us in the station? Know who she is?"
"Who?"
"Mary Potter!"
Mary heard the little girl gasp. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see her, Mum? Please, Mum…"
"You've already seen her, Ginny," their mother chided. "And the poor girl isn't something you ogle at like some zoo creature." She turned back to the twins. "Was it really her, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked her. Saw the scar."
"It's really there, Mum," George added. "Like lightning."
"The poor dear," she sighed. "I'd wondered why she was alone. And she was ever-so polite."
"Do you think she remembers You-Know-Who?" asked the girl named Ginny.
Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask her about it. Any of you! No, don't you dare. She has enough on her mind with her first day of school."
"All right, all right!" said Fred, hands raised in defense. "Keep your hair on."
A whistle sounded, and the mother shooed the three boys onto the train.
Ginny began to cry, so Fred promised to send her loads of owls, and George made her laugh in promising a Hogwarts toilet seat.
The train began to move, and Mary looked out at the families seeing them off. Some were crying while others smiled. Ginny laughed and ran alongside the train, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stopped and waved when she could no longer keep up, and Mary watched them all disappear in the distance. She felt a leap of excitement, knowing that wherever she was going, it had to be better than what lay behind.