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A History of Hogwarts:
The Word of Merlin
Chapter I: The Express
King's Cross Railway Station
London
September 1st, 1941
Platform Nine and Three Quarters was rarely such a somber place. The platform used specifically by parents of the Wizarding World to send their children off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was usually a chaotic, bubbling whirlwind of whimsy, excitement, nerves and joy. Sadly, the school year of 1941 began with a far more serious tone this year. The Ministry of Magic was out in force, badges flashing and gleaming against dark trenchcoats as they directed the huddles masses onto the platform in organised lines as all likes of magical detection devices flitted about throughout, under and over the crowds, keenly looking for any magical concealment, enchantment or misdirection that could put the parents, children, express or Hogwarts at risk.
Even the Express itself was different to usual years. The crimson carriages were now painted black, and an extra carriage had been attached this year, full of Aurors ready to confront any perceived threat if necessary., in a wild break of tradition. At the far end of the platform, haughty purebloods argued with Ministry representatives that the Express even had a different locomotive - the flamboyant red Hall class, fueled by magic and built in secrecy, was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by one of the muggles' streamlined and supposedly faster A4 locomotives, spewing out smoke and ash and steam, darkening its already black wartime paint and raising the ire of all of the most pompous of families, much to the chagrin of the Ministry officials trying to maintain order.
"As I've explained, this is to ensure that the Express is not seen any differently to all the other trains entering and exiting King's Cross right now. The Ministry assures you all that-"
"Assures us? We're to trust our children's lives-"
"A muggle-built device-"
"Doesn't even use magic?!"
"Preposterous!"
"Hmph!"
"Your superior will be getting a very harshly worded letter from me, I can assure you of that!"
"Excuse me," grunted a dishevelled looking young man as he forced his way through the group, his voice a barely restrained growl through grated teeth as he pushed his way through the group of over-inflated egos, head bowed and shoulders hunched as he dragged an awkwardly large suitcase behind him. His clothes were rough-spun and held together by a number of clumsy, home-done stitches of various colours and quality, and despite the steam and soot of the locomotive, he looked particularly greasy and dirt-covered. Fingerless gloves clapped a staff against his thigh as he walked, and a small birdcage clanged as it bounced against the suitcase, the tiny elf owl within trying its hardest to chirp angrily at the young man hauling the luggage, though it was drowned out by the protests of the self-important men who had decided they had found something new to complain about.
"Watch it, young man!"
"-impertinent youth!"
"So unbecoming!"
"-what a brat of a child!"
"Where are your parents, boy?!"
Raising his head slightly, the young man turned his head slightly to look back at the men, one amber eye glaring at them collectively as his scarred face scowled at them.
"Sod off, you ponces. No-one gives a shit what you think," he growled, not even bothering to look back at the protesting men as he clambered on board the Hogwarts Express. Let's just get this year over with already.
London
September 1st, 1941
Platform Nine and Three Quarters was rarely such a somber place. The platform used specifically by parents of the Wizarding World to send their children off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was usually a chaotic, bubbling whirlwind of whimsy, excitement, nerves and joy. Sadly, the school year of 1941 began with a far more serious tone this year. The Ministry of Magic was out in force, badges flashing and gleaming against dark trenchcoats as they directed the huddles masses onto the platform in organised lines as all likes of magical detection devices flitted about throughout, under and over the crowds, keenly looking for any magical concealment, enchantment or misdirection that could put the parents, children, express or Hogwarts at risk.
Even the Express itself was different to usual years. The crimson carriages were now painted black, and an extra carriage had been attached this year, full of Aurors ready to confront any perceived threat if necessary., in a wild break of tradition. At the far end of the platform, haughty purebloods argued with Ministry representatives that the Express even had a different locomotive - the flamboyant red Hall class, fueled by magic and built in secrecy, was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by one of the muggles' streamlined and supposedly faster A4 locomotives, spewing out smoke and ash and steam, darkening its already black wartime paint and raising the ire of all of the most pompous of families, much to the chagrin of the Ministry officials trying to maintain order.
"As I've explained, this is to ensure that the Express is not seen any differently to all the other trains entering and exiting King's Cross right now. The Ministry assures you all that-"
"Assures us? We're to trust our children's lives-"
"A muggle-built device-"
"Doesn't even use magic?!"
"Preposterous!"
"Hmph!"
"Your superior will be getting a very harshly worded letter from me, I can assure you of that!"
"Excuse me," grunted a dishevelled looking young man as he forced his way through the group, his voice a barely restrained growl through grated teeth as he pushed his way through the group of over-inflated egos, head bowed and shoulders hunched as he dragged an awkwardly large suitcase behind him. His clothes were rough-spun and held together by a number of clumsy, home-done stitches of various colours and quality, and despite the steam and soot of the locomotive, he looked particularly greasy and dirt-covered. Fingerless gloves clapped a staff against his thigh as he walked, and a small birdcage clanged as it bounced against the suitcase, the tiny elf owl within trying its hardest to chirp angrily at the young man hauling the luggage, though it was drowned out by the protests of the self-important men who had decided they had found something new to complain about.
"Watch it, young man!"
"-impertinent youth!"
"So unbecoming!"
"-what a brat of a child!"
"Where are your parents, boy?!"
Raising his head slightly, the young man turned his head slightly to look back at the men, one amber eye glaring at them collectively as his scarred face scowled at them.
"Sod off, you ponces. No-one gives a shit what you think," he growled, not even bothering to look back at the protesting men as he clambered on board the Hogwarts Express. Let's just get this year over with already.
Underneath the platform, as the train sat waiting for the passengers to board, the heat attracted other guests. As the locomotive stood in waiting, steam heating the air beneath the train, a small, lizardlike creature pulled itself out from the warmth of the earth, forked tongue darting out of its mouth as it climbed up the spoked wheel, quickly yet carefully working its way into the warmth of the engine's cabin...
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