Compared to the bustling station outside, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters didn't look particularly special. In fact, it seemed older, almost worn down.
Ark had already noticed a pattern: wherever the Wizarding World left its mark, the impression was always the same—"ancient," "shabby," even "grimy." As if that was the only way to prove its history and tradition.
Of course, to Ark—who came from the 2020s—Britain in the 1990s already felt outdated. Since he'd grown up in an even poorer, more isolated corner of the world, this place wasn't half bad by comparison. At least, it didn't strike him as jarringly backward.
His eyes fixed on the single train waiting at the tracks.
A gleaming scarlet steam engine.
The Hogwarts Express—the only train running between London and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Before this train existed, Hogwarts students used any method they thought might be fun to reach school. The results were disastrous: countless accidents, even deaths, not to mention the chaos caused when Muggles saw wizards zooming overhead. After the International Statute of Secrecy was passed in 1692, those methods were banned.
Thus the Hogwarts Express was born. To make it possible, the Ministry of Magic had launched one of the largest operations in its history. One hundred sixty-seven Memory Charms and the most powerful Concealment Spells ever recorded in British magical history were used, burying Platform Nine and Three-Quarters deep within the Muggle world, invisible to all but witches and wizards.
Back in Ark's old world, children everywhere had dreamed of riding this train, heading toward that legendary castle.
Now he was about to live their dream for them.
The thought put a smile on his face as he pulled his trunk through the crowd.
Unlike outside, everyone here belonged to the Wizarding World. Some wore cloaks and pointed hats, wands clutched in hand. Others pushed trunks heavier than Ark's, saying emotional goodbyes to their families.
Ark strode among them with his head high, moving with calm self-assurance. His presence drew eyes at once.
"Whose young wizard is that?"
"Where are his parents?"
"Is he all on his own?"
"He's so handsome…"
Whispers trailed in his wake. Some of the young witches stole glances at him, cheeks pink, hearts racing.
It was true—after his body's transformation, Ark's looks had sharpened strikingly. Coupled with his warm, approachable aura, he seemed like the charming boy next door. It wasn't just the girls his own age who noticed—even a few older ones found themselves tempted to strike up a conversation.
Not everyone was impressed, though. A cluster of boys and girls dressed in fine robes and glittering jewelry eyed him with disdain. They might have acknowledged his striking features and refined demeanor, but his plainly cut, inexpensive clothes marked him as common in their eyes. They looked down on him instantly.
Their scorn, however, earned them nothing. People around them kept their distance, and Ark himself didn't spare them so much as a glance.
He boarded the Hogwarts Express, wandered through the carriages, and finally slipped into an empty compartment.
After hoisting his trunk onto the rack, he settled by the window, opened a book, and began to read with quiet absorption.
Time passed, and the train filled with more and more young wizards. The hour of departure drew near.
The whistle blew, long and shrill. The Hogwarts Express lurched forward, wheels clattering, pulling away from the platform and gathering speed as it carried them north toward the Scottish Highlands.
…
Click-clack, click-clack.
The steady rhythm of the wheels underscored Ark's quiet reading. He swayed gently with the carriage, sunlight filtering through the glass to fall across his face. The glow softened his ever-present half-smile and calm gaze, turning the scene into something almost picture-perfect.
Plenty of students had passed his compartment and thought about joining him. But the sight had made them hesitate. Some slipped away in sudden shyness; others felt too nervous to step inside. And so Ark remained alone.
The silence lasted who knew how long.
"Um… excuse me. Sorry to bother you."
A voice broke the stillness. Ark lifted his head, attention shifting from the page to the doorway.
A girl stood there, about his age. Thick curls framed her face, two prominent front teeth peeked from behind her lips, and her bright brown eyes sparkled with intelligence.
"Can I help you?"
Ark studied her distinctive features—enough to guess her identity easily—then smiled as he spoke.
His gentle voice, perfectly matching his calm demeanor, made the girl's slightly bossy air falter. She flushed pink.
"S-sorry, sir, I didn't mean to interrupt." For some reason she stammered, suddenly nervous. "I just wanted to ask… have you seen a toad anywhere?"
"A toad?" Ark raised a brow. "Your pet?"
"No!" she blurted, voice jumping an octave as though desperate not to be misunderstood. "I'd never keep a toad as a pet. I don't even like them. I prefer cats!"
She waved her hands quickly, then pointed behind her. "The toad belongs to him."
A short, round-faced boy hovered in the corridor, chubby and timid.
"Trevor's my pet," he mumbled, nearly in tears. "He ran off. I've looked everywhere, but I can't find him. If he's lost, my gran will be furious."
"We're in the same carriage," the girl explained briskly. "So I thought I'd help him look."
"I see." Ark nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, I haven't spotted him. He's not here."
Disappointment flickered across the girl's face. The boy sniffled, on the verge of crying.
"Don't worry," Ark said kindly. "We're on a train. He's not an owl—he can't just fly away." He drew his wand, then asked, "Trevor, was it?"
"Huh?" The boy blinked, then realized Ark was asking him. "Y-yes! His name's Trevor!"
"Nice name," Ark said lightly. "Not the best fit for a toad, but don't worry—you'll have him back soon."
He gave his wand a smooth wave.
"Accio Trevor!"
Invisible ripples spread out from his wand tip.
Moments later, a flash of gold zipped down the corridor and into the compartment.
"Trevor!"
The boy's cry was pure relief.
The golden blur resolved into the missing toad, landing safely in Ark's hands.