Ravenclaw, Head of House, Short, Prompt: [Setting] King's Cross Station, Platform 8 3/4 (Meaning you get to pick the train's destination.), WC: 500

Note: I used the "Platform 8 3/4" in full word terms to prevent confusion for myself and others reading it.

Also, this is definitely one of my headcanons and I would love it to be a real thing. I would say it's canon-compliant, but who really knows anymore? Enjoy!

0-0-0-0

As usual, Igor suspected, Kings Cross Station was jam packed. Tourists - the ones carrying enormous cameras and wearing brightly coloured plastic jackets to combat nonexistent rainfall - scattered the expansive area. There were very few commuters or workers, with it being just past rush hour.

He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The air was warmer in London than it had been in Scotland. Thankfully, it had been all too easy to apparate to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Even easier to quickly pass through the barrier to the main train station. And it only took one glance for him to find the right place to Platform Eight and Three Quarters. There was a bench stationed in the right place.

That was his way in.

His escape route.

The only problem was finding the opportune moment. As if by magic, the tall, ginger man sitting on the bench beside him folded his paper, stood up, and left.

Now was his chance.

Igor's mark twinged painfully. The Dark Lord was calling him. As soon as he had felt the burning, saw the Mark go raw red, then coal black, he knew he had to run. And there was only one place to which he could truly escape.

In one swift, deft movement, his wand a curving blur, Igor Karkaroff had opened a portal to the lesser known Platform Eight and Three Quarters, through a barrier much similar to its more popular counterpart.

Unlike Platform Nine and Three Quarters, which was bold Hogwarts colours and clean from frequent use, this platform was much different. It was enclosed in a dark tunnel, greying, peeling paint hardly able to be read: Train to Nowhere. Cobwebs dangled from each curve and corner of the space, twisting in a breeze that seemed to manifest from nothingness. There was no train inhabiting the tracks before him, but Igor knew better than to believe this blank space.

He knew that, if he should wave his wand in a certain pattern, the train would unveil itself, and he could board with the many other escapees, and go to Nowhere.

Yet again, he cast his wand in a great arc.

Before him, a purple, monstrous engine appeared. It had chilled windows, cold from the lack of fire running through the train, but surely warmer inside where magic was glowing. Food was multiplied from limited, dull resources. Infinite numbers of passengers could board, so long as they knew the train was there. No one asked questions, because they all knew none of them wanted to answer any questions.

It was true, the train did go to Nowhere. But Nowhere wasn't a precise place, but more of a limbo, a constant, liminal space between here and there. When a passenger summoned the train, it was only revealed to them. Once that passenger boarded, the train would simply cease to exist between two realities until the next passenger attempted to board.

It was the perfect escape.

Not even the Voldemort could reach him there.

0-0-0-0

Thanks for reading!