The day of his departure arrived far too quickly.
It was the 31st of August.
Cael stood beside his narrow bed in the dormitory, staring down at the small, slightly battered suitcase he had packed the night before. His wand, wrapped carefully in a cloth sleeve like some sacred relic, lay nestled between folded shirts and socks. His textbooks—mostly second-hand and already worn from obsessive reading—were crammed neatly to one side. A glint of gold peeked from his coat pocket: the Hogwarts Express ticket, its embossed lettering catching the early morning light.
The hallway outside was still and quiet, the rest of the orphanage only beginning to stir. It was too early for breakfast—just how he liked it.
Downstairs, Madame Linda was waiting.
She stood by the door in her usual navy cardigan, the one with the mended elbow, and a thick scarf wound snugly around her neck. There was something uncharacteristically formal in her posture, as if she weren't quite sure what to say.
"You're early," she murmured, offering him a thermos. "Hot cocoa. You didn't eat."
Cael took it with a grateful smile. "Thanks."
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes unreadable. "So. This is really happening."
He nodded. "Apparently I'm a wizard now. Who knew?"
She didn't laugh. "Be safe, Cael. I know I haven't always… known what to do with you. But I'm proud of you. Even if I don't understand any of this."
His throat tightened unexpectedly. He cleared it with a small cough. "I left you the book. A History of Magic. Chapter Five covers wizarding schools. Might help."
"I'll read it," she said, quietly. "I want to understand. Even if I never really will."
There wasn't much else to say. Any more words would just ruin the moment.
So he stepped forward and hugged her.
Madame Linda froze for a heartbeat—then wrapped her arms around him, tightly.
"Don't you dare get expelled."
"No promises," he said into her shoulder, voice muffled.
She stepped back, adjusting his scarf. "I arranged a taxi. It's already waiting outside. It'll take you to King's Cross. I would've gone with you, but… there are people coming today. Potential adoptive families. Only four boys left now—all little ones. I have to be here."
Cael nodded. "Thanks. I'll be going then."
And just like that, he left.
⸻
The taxi ride into London passed without incident. Cael sat toward the back, clutching his suitcase in one hand and a torn scrap of parchment in the other.
System: You're awfully quiet for someone about to embark on a magical coming-of-age journey.
"Don't start. I'm mentally preparing."
System: By rehearsing sarcastic remarks in your head?
"Exactly."
⸻
By the time he arrived at King's Cross Station, the morning rush was in full swing. The echoing terminal rang with the sound of chattering commuters, rolling suitcases, and the distant shriek of train whistles.
Cael walked slowly through the chaos, drinking it all in.
Platforms nine… ten…
But no nine and three-quarters.
Of course.
System: Shocking. It's like magical platforms don't believe in numerology.
He approached the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Just a wide stretch of brick wall. A pair of abandoned luggage trolleys stood nearby. Nothing magical. Nothing suspicious.
"This has to be it."
System: You sure? Could be a trap. Maybe you run into the wall and end up with a broken nose and a lawsuit against the Ministry.
"At least then they'd have to talk to me."
He stood for a moment, watching the rush of travelers pass him by, debating how many brain cells he'd lose walking headfirst into a wall.
And then he saw them.
A family—ginger-haired and cheerful. Two identical twin boys darted ahead with trolleys. A taller boy followed, looking vaguely annoyed. Their mother—kind-faced and worn—came next, walking briskly with a little girl skipping beside her.
The older boy gave a quick glance around, leaned into the wall—
And vanished.
The twins followed suit, one after the other, without hesitation.
Cael's jaw dropped.
The mother noticed his stare and offered a warm, knowing smile. "First time, dear?"
"Yeah," Cael managed to say.
"Well, you saw how my boys did it. Same thing. It's perfectly safe." She nodded at the barrier. "Best take a deep breath and walk straight through. Don't stop. And don't overthink it."
He hesitated. "What if I overthink not overthinking?"
She laughed softly. "Then you'll fit right in at Hogwarts."
"Thanks, ma'am," Cael said sincerely.
With a steadying breath, he adjusted his grip on the suitcase, squared his shoulders—and walked straight into the wall.
Or rather, through it.
Behind him, the mother sighed. "Such a polite little girl."
Her daughter frowned. "But Mum, he's not a girl. Didn't you see? He was wearing boys' clothes."
"Oh, dear," the woman muttered. "I didn't even notice. I wish Ron were like him. But alas… that boy can barely read."
The girl's lips twitched. "Well, you'll have to teach him better. I can read and write just fine."
⸻
For a split second, it felt like walking through water—thick, pressing in on all sides. Then the air cleared, and a burst of steam met him head-on. A distant whistle shrieked overhead.
Cael stood on a cobbled platform beneath a grand iron-and-glass ceiling. A gleaming scarlet engine rested ahead, billowing white smoke into the morning air. Above him, a wrought-iron sign declared:
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
System: Okay, fine. That was cool.
Cael exhaled, tension sliding from his shoulders.
Yeah. It was cool.
He took a moment to look around. Students bustled everywhere—young witches and wizards lugging trunks and cages, clinging to parents, waving tearful goodbyes. The air buzzed with laughter, nerves, and the thrill of adventure.
A boy brushed past him with an owl cage. A girl sobbed into her mum's coat. Further down the platform, someone screamed about a missing toad as a small stampede erupted.
Cael smiled faintly.
He was here.
He'd made it.
Not just to a station, but to something more. The beginning of a life that had once felt impossibly far away.
System: Ready to board the magical anxiety train? Destination: trauma, friendship, and frequent explosions in Potions class?
"Honestly?" Cael said, gripping the handle of his suitcase and stepping forward toward the train. "Yeah. I think I am."