People swarmed the crowded station, some running to catch trains. They wanted to run. The problem was; they didn't know where to run to. They squinted and peeled their eyes for any sign of another group of wizards. They saw a tall, 15 year old boy with black hair and round glasses. He had a strange shaped scar and was pushing a trunk similar to Molly's.
"Excuse me-" John had started to ask but the boy had run straight into the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 and disappeared.
"Interesting" muttered Sherlock as he ran over to the barrier and started examining it with a magnifying glass.
He pressed his face up against the barrier to examine a speck of dust when he too, vanished.
"Now what?" Said John to his daughter but as he looked to his left he realized that his daughter was no longer by his side.
He heard Molly say "Sorry dad" and watched as she ran straight into the barrier, disappearing into the brick.
John took a deep breath. It was his turn. He braced himself and ran straight into the brick and everything went dark.
The train was about to leave. "Where is my dad?" Said Molly.
"I'm not sure but we need to board this train!" Said Sherlock who ran towards the train door, but seemed to have slammed into an invisible wall.
"What the-" Sherlock said mystified. He pulled out his magnifying glass again and started grasping into the air. Just as Sherlock pulled out a small brush the train started moving.
"Sorry Sherlock!" Shouted Molly as she ran to the door and jumped on.
"Crap!" Muttered Sherlock. He thought fast and ran. As the train gained speed, Sherlock found himself tailing the end of the train. He knew what to do. He jumped. The chances of him falling into the tracks were high. The chances of him catching on were low, but luck saved the day. Grasping on to a thin ladder on the back, he climbed to the top of the train, the wind blowing in his hair.
Meanwhile, John was on the floor. Everything was blurry but he could see a crowd of people surrounding him. One man was pointing a stick at him. Suddenly, he was awake and fully aware that that stick was a wand and that he was not dreaming. John slowly got up, dazed from his blackout. He would never get used to that magic barrier thingy. He took his time until something triggered in his mind. The train. He bolted up quickly and looked at the clock on the wall. 11:15. Had he been out that long?
After getting home and repeatedly calling Sherlock and receiving voicemail, he gave up. Tired, he slumped over to his bed, and fell asleep, hoping it was all a dream.