Chapter 38 – The Journey to Hogwarts
The high-pitched whistle of the Hogwarts Express pierced the morning air, echoing across the bustling Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. A plume of white steam curled from the engine's chimney, rising like a dragon's breath into the cool sky. The red train stood tall and magnificent, waiting for its young passengers.
Children hugged their parents tightly, pets meowed, hooted, and croaked from cages, and trolleys bumped over the cobblestone platform. Trunks were hauled, last-minute kisses exchanged, and laughter bubbled everywhere.
Thomas stood at the edge of the platform, his hand gripping the worn handle of his trunk. Next to him, Sister Mary gently touched his shoulder, her dark coat buttoned tightly, her scarf fluttering in the breeze. Her eyes glistened, though she was doing her best to smile.
"You have your letter?" she asked softly.
"In my coat pocket," Thomas replied.
"Sandwiches?"
"In my bag."
"Courage?"
He hesitated. Then nodded. "Somewhere in here."
She smiled and squeezed his arm. "You'll be fine."
"I hope so," he murmured. "I've never… I mean, I don't know what it'll be like."
Sister Mary brushed a hand over his messy hair. "You've faced worse, Thomas. This is just a new adventure."
The final whistle screamed, a sound full of urgency and finality.
"It's time," she whispered.
Thomas swallowed hard and nodded. He took one last look at her, memorizing her face, and then turned toward the train. He climbed the narrow steps, dragging his trunk behind him, and entered the long corridor, already half-full with laughing students and the shuffle of movement.
He began to walk down the aisle, glancing into compartments. Most were packed already—some full of excited first-years, others with older students who lounged like they owned the place. He kept walking, avoiding eye contact, until he reached the last carriage.
One compartment. Empty.
He slid the door open, heaved his trunk into the overhead rack, and collapsed onto the seat by the window with a sigh. Outside, steam clouded the glass, but he could just barely make out Sister Mary's silhouette on the platform.
She waved.
His chest tightened. He raised his hand to wave back, pressing it gently against the glass. She didn't leave immediately. She stood there, waving, waiting, as the train began to inch forward.
She's really proud of me, he thought. And she came all this way…
His throat closed slightly. It had been a long time—longer than just this life—since someone looked at him like that. With warmth. With the love of a mother. His own mother in the previous world had died when he was a child, and in this world, he'd had nothing until Sister Mary.
Now I have a mother again, he realized. Even if not by blood. She's real.
The train picked up speed. The platform began to fade, and Sister Mary disappeared behind the rising curtain of steam.
He leaned back, blinking hard.
Then, a knock.
Two grinning faces popped into view at the door—identical redheads with freckles and the unmistakable gleam of mischief in their eyes.
"This one's empty," said the one on the left.
"Except for one occupant," added the one on the right.
"You mind?" they said in unison.
Thomas shook his head. "Not at all."
They flung the door open and tumbled in, dropping onto the seat across from him. One stretched his legs out; the other dug into his bag and pulled out what looked like a half-eaten sandwich.
"I'm Fred," said the first.
"And I'm George," said the second.
"Or I'm George," the first corrected.
"And I'm Fred," the second agreed.
Thomas blinked.
They grinned. "We like to keep people guessing."
"I'm Thomas," he said with a cautious smile. "Thomas Space."
"Space?" Fred said, eyes twinkling. "Are you from the stars?"
"Maybe that's where he keeps his wand," George added.
"Or his sandwiches."
"Or both."
Thomas chuckled. "Only the sandwiches. My wand's a bit too pointy for my pocket."
George gave a theatrical sigh. "A realist."
"Shame."
"So where are you from, Thomas Not-from-Space?"
"London," Thomas replied. "Grew up in an orphanage."
The twins' expressions changed slightly. There was no pity—just a flicker of awareness, of something deeper settling behind their smiles.
"Sounds rough," Fred said after a moment.
"It wasn't," Thomas said firmly. "The people there—Sister Mary, the kids—they're my family. Probably even bigger than yours."
That got a laugh.
"Fair point," said George. "There's seven of us Weasleys, and that already feels like a traffic jam."
"Imagine double that," Thomas smirked. "And toddlers."
The twins winced in unison. "You win."
"By a landslide."
Fred pulled out his wand and twirled it between his fingers. "So, you tried yours yet?"
Thomas shook his head. "No spells. I've been reading, but… nothing practical."
George nodded. "Same here. Mum warned us—strict laws about underage magic. Can't even make our socks fold themselves."
Fred sighed. "Not that it stopped us trying."
Thomas smirked. Even wizard kids aren't allowed to use wands before school? That's… oddly fair. At least I'm not the only one starting from scratch.
"You're both from wizard families, right?" he asked.
Fred nodded. "Purebloods. Born and raised around magic."
"But Hogwarts is a first," George added. "We've heard all kinds of things about what happens there."
"Like?" Thomas leaned in curiously.
Fred grinned. "Well, first thing's the Sorting."
"You get put into a house," George explained. "There are four of them—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."
Thomas blinked. "Houses?"
"Yeah, like school families," Fred said. "Each one's got a different vibe. Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are smart, Hufflepuffs are loyal, and Slytherins are… well…"
"Ambitious," George supplied diplomatically.
Thomas tilted his head. "And how do they decide where you go?"
"That," Fred said, "is the great mystery."
"We don't know," George added. "Nobody tells you. Not properly, anyway."
"But we've heard rumors," Fred said in a conspiratorial tone.
"Some say you have to fight a magical beast," George whispered.
"Others say you have to take a test of your deepest fears," Fred added.
"Or climb a mountain of fire."
"Or drink a potion that might explode."
Thomas stared at them.
Fred burst out laughing. "Don't worry, most of it's nonsense."
"Yeah," George said. "We figured out that most of the older students just like messing with first-years."
Thomas chuckled. "So you're pranksters too, huh?"
"Professionals," they said in unison.
"You'll fit in just fine," Fred added with a grin.
They talked for what felt like hours. The countryside rolled past in a blur of green fields, sheep-dotted hills, and occasional stone bridges. Fred and George kept the mood light, telling exaggerated stories of garden gnome uprisings and exploding teapots.
Thomas shared a little about life in the orphanage—how he helped the younger kids with homework, taught them simple card tricks, and once organized an entire Christmas play with puppets made of socks.
They were still laughing when the trolley rolled by.
"Anything off the cart, dears?" asked the witch.
The twins hesitated, glancing at each other. Then at their pockets.
"Nah, we're good," George said.
"We brought food," Fred added quickly.
"Same here," Thomas said, pulling out his packed sandwiches and an apple.
"Budget squad," Fred declared.
"Proud and hungry," George agreed.
They shared their food freely—Fred's sausage rolls, George's mashed berry tarts (slightly squashed), and Thomas's neatly wrapped sandwiches. It was simple, but it felt like a feast.
As the sky darkened into evening, lanterns flickered on inside the train, casting warm yellow light over the compartment.
Then a voice echoed over the train: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts shortly. Please change into your school robes and leave your luggage in the racks. It will be brought to the castle separately."
A ripple of excitement passed through the train.
Fred stood up and shook out his robes. "Here we go."
"Moment of truth," George said, pulling his over his shirt.
Thomas changed quickly, his hands moving with more confidence than he expected. His robes still felt stiff and formal, but as he looked at his reflection in the glass, he didn't look out of place anymore.
He looked like a wizard.
The train slowed with a rhythmic clunking. Students crowded into the corridors, chattering and laughing. The twins stood beside Thomas, their usual confidence tinged with something deeper—anticipation, maybe. A little bit of nervousness.
The train finally screeched to a halt.
Fred glanced at Thomas. "You ready?"
Thomas took a breath. "As I'll ever be."
The door slid open.
Beyond it, the cool night air waited, full of stars and secrets and the promise of magic.
And Thomas stepped forward into the unknown.