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Hi everyone!!
I'm amazed at how quickly the collections and views are growing, so I was wondering, would you be interested in creating a Discord server to stay up to date with chapter updates or chat with others?
(PS: A friend suggested I create a P@treon account. If you'd like to see advanced chapters posted on Webnovel, that's where you can find them! I'll also mention all the supporters at the end of each chapter!)
Search : StoryLabo on the website or click the link on my bio
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A deafening BANG rang out, and a three-story purple bus appeared as if by magic, narrowly missing crushing a trash can in the process. The wheels screeched on the asphalt with a horrible metallic grinding sound.
The door opened with a slam, revealing a middle-aged man with disheveled hair and thick glasses.
- "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for stranded witches and wizards!" he bellowed with a pronounced Cockney accent. "I'm Ernie Prang, your driver, and this is Stan Shunpike, your conductor!"
A young man with protruding ears appeared next to the driver, sporting a toothless grin.
- "So mate, where we going?" Stan asked, observing Aiden with curiosity.
- "King's Cross, please," Aiden replied politely. "How much does it cost?"
- "Eleven Sickles for standard transport," Stan said. "Thirteen if you want hot chocolate, fifteen if you want a hot water bottle and a toothbrush in the color of your choice."
Aiden handed him the necessary coins.
- "Standard transport will be fine."
He climbed onto the bus and was immediately struck by the completely crazy layout. Beds instead of seats, candles floating from the ceiling, and a smell of old socks that permeated the entire cabin.
The strangest bus I've ever seen. I'm torn between calling it a dump or genius... Aiden thought.
The bus started with a violent jolt that would have sent anyone to the ground, but Aiden, to his great surprise, remained perfectly stable.
WTF, I'm really going to have to train to use this crazy body. Magic yes, but hand-to-hand combat shouldn't be neglected.
- "First time on the Knight Bus?" Stan asked, sitting down next to him.
- "Yes," Aiden replied. "And it's... impressive."
The bus suddenly took a right-angle turn at completely insane speed, passing through what seemed to be a brick wall to find itself on another street. Then it jumped over a line of Muggle cars before landing smoothly on a parallel avenue.
Aiden burst out laughing.
An authentic, spontaneous laugh that sprang from his lips without him being able to control it. It was the first time in months that he had felt such pure, liberating joy.
Stan looked at him with surprise.
- "You... you're laughing? Most people throw up on their first time."
- "This is brilliant!" Aiden exclaimed, his eyes shining. "It's like a ride, but a thousand times better!"
The bus then did a complete loop, temporarily going upside down while the candles continued to burn normally and Stan's hot chocolate remained perfectly in his cup.
Aiden was now laughing his head off, completely relaxed for the first time in ages.
Fuck, I had forgotten what it was like to have fun without ulterior motives, he thought. No mental manipulation, no political calculations, no long-term plans. Just... pure fun.
Stan seemed slightly taken aback by this unusual reaction.
- "You're a funny one, you are," he said, shaking his head. "What's your name again?"
- "Aiden Mortensen."
- "First year at Hogwarts?"
- "Exactly."
- "Well then, welcome to the magical world, mate. And trust me, the Knight Bus is nothing compared to what's waiting for you there."
You don't know how right you are. A fucking basilisk that's a few centuries old, for example.
The bus made one last spectacular swerve before stopping abruptly in front of the King's Cross entrance.
- "End of the line, everyone off!" Ernie bellowed from his seat.
Aiden retrieved his suitcase, thanked Stan and Ernie, then got off the bus with a smile that wouldn't leave his face.
Damn, that felt good, he thought, watching the Knight Bus disappear in another deafening BANG. I really need to remind myself from time to time that life can be fun.
Once at King's Cross, Aiden observed the crowd with fascination—hundreds of people hurrying in all directions, completely unaware that a magical world existed parallel to theirs.
Just like I was ignorant in my previous life, he thought. Brilliant neurosurgeon, maybe, but blind to so many things...
He contemplated the clouds through the station's large glass canopies, feeling the melancholy of approaching autumn. The elemental spirits whispered their usual secrets, completely indifferent to life below.
Aiden discreetly checked his watch. 10:47. He had timed his arrival perfectly. From his memories, Harry and the Weasleys always arrived around 11, late enough for the station to be well filled but not too late to avoid the noon rush.
No point hanging around here for hours looking for platform 9¾, he had told himself. Might as well let the Weasleys do the work and play the lost orphan at the right moment.
He didn't have to wait long. Around 10:55, as planned, he spotted a family of redheads heading toward the platforms, dragging cages and suitcases that definitely looked magical... magically poor and dirty too. And in the middle of them...
A kid with messy black hair, round glasses, looking around with confusion.
Harry fucking Potter.
The moment their eyes met, Aiden felt something he had never experienced before and that he hadn't detected at all during their first meeting—his mind hadn't been developed enough at the time to spot it.
But there was inside him a sort of perpetual hissing, deep, sinister, and literally black—very, very black.
It was as if something rotten, malevolent, fundamentally evil was emitting a constant signal from... from within Harry Potter himself.
What the...?
Aiden's survival instinct took over instantly. This black thing was dangerous, very dangerous, and the boy became frightened. If this thing knew he was aware of it, he feared its offensive—he wasn't strong enough yet. His mental "barriers" rose with a force that gave him a headache, cutting off all telepathic connection with the outside world. The clouds inside him gathered and swirled, drowning his inner world in an intense and dense orange fog. His platform carrying his inner self doubled in speed and navigated at the speed of a shooting star.
The outside world suddenly became strangely silent—no more whispers from passersby, no more voices from elemental spirits, nothing but his own thoughts.
Voldemort. The realization hit him like a truck. That fucking soul fragment in his scar. I can sense it.
He blinked several times, fighting against the sudden dizziness, forcing himself to regain composure.
Calm down, he told himself firmly. No mistakes, enough preparation, and even Voldemort will lick my boots.
The red-headed family was approaching, and the mother, a robust woman with a warm face guiding the small group toward the platforms, then noticed Aiden who looked a bit lost near the indicator signs with his big suitcase that he was carrying with one hand nonetheless.
This strangeness caught her attention, and she reached Aiden's level and bent down to his height.
- "Excuse me, dear," she said with a benevolent smile. "Are you looking for platform 9¾?" she ventured.
Showtime, Aiden thought, activating his "lost and innocent but slightly weird orphan" mode.
- "Oh! Uh... yes, actually," he replied with a perfectly calculated hint of hesitation. "You... you too?"
"Molly Weasley," the woman introduced herself, extending her hand. "And these are my sons Ron, Fred, George, and Percy. Are you with your parents?"
Aiden lowered his head slightly with an expression of authentic sadness.
- "I'm Aiden Mortensen," he said politely. "I'm... uh... Muggle-born, I think Professor McGonagall mentioned that term, and I'm an orphan. I received my Hogwarts letter but no one could accompany me. The orphanage just gave me the address and enough to get to the station."
Molly Weasley literally melted.
- "Oh, you poor dear! Muggle-born and an orphan too! Don't worry, we'll help you get through the barrier. Is this your first time?"
She turned to Harry Potter, who had just joined them.
- "You too, I imagine? You have exactly the same lost expression as my Ron when I explained it to him for the first time."
Harry nodded shyly. Aiden carefully kept his mental barriers in place, but he couldn't ignore that constant hissing that seemed to emanate from the kid.
How does he manage to live with that in his head? he wondered with a mixture of pity and horror. That Horcrux fragment must be rotting his existence permanently.
- "Right," Molly said, clapping her hands. "Who wants to go first? Percy, set an example."
The eldest son, looking pompous with his prefect badge, headed toward the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Aiden carefully observed the technique—a determined run toward what seemed to be solid brick.
I wish he had gotten the wrong wall and crashed like an idiot... That would be amusing... Aiden thought, questioning his own maturity.
And of course, unsurprisingly, Percy disappeared through the wall as if it were made of mist.
Aiden simulated a perfect expression of wonder, eyes wide as if he had never seen anything so extraordinary.
- "Is that... is that real magic?" he stammered with a slightly trembling voice.
- "Quite normal in our world," Molly laughed. "Come on, who's next?"