Marauder crack

The gang's 'ere (Pardon us)

The clock at King's Cross Station marks nine minutes to eleven in the morning and platform nine and three-quarters bustles. One hundred degrees of activity, dozens of students per corner, rolling suitcases, trolleys full of lumps, owls hooting in their cages, and spirits at their peakboiling. The first years struggle through tears, the desire to hug their parents, and the modesty for being seen as crying by the older students. The girls meet again between hugs and shouts of enthusiasm. The boy's whistle and wave from one train carriage to another. The most impatient are already wearing their uniforms, others seek their seat in the train and struggle to fit the suitcases in the luggage rack. 

A group of girls' roommates try to catch up and summarise their summer close to the brick wall that separates the magical platform from the rest of the station and the muggle world. Four of them - brunette, less brunette, blonde, and not so blonde - laugh and hug each other earnestly. The four of them become suddenly silent when They walk through the magic wall. They are wearing deliberately scruffy street clothes with jeans worn out by laziness, pleasantly pleased to have met each other.

Gryffindor Quidditch Team Seeker is a Living Legend at Hogwarts.

The not-so-blonde girl sighs.

- Have you seen him in "Witch's Weekly: Young promises of Quidditch "?

The blonde girl nods. She has seen him. She has cropped his moving picture. She has looked at it during idle hours in her room.

-He is even more handsome in person.

With longer hair and the inevitable cigarette on his lips, the other great star of the team. Boots that don't forgive, and grey eyes that turn any sigh into a regret, something deeper. He grabs onto James Potter as soon as they enter the station and he looks at everything as if he is witnessing a miracle that makes him especially happy. When he grins wide and sticks his tongue out with malice, he bites his lower lip like he's about to turn something on fire just for fun, the four girls feel something else like weakness, somewhat more feminine.

- Run, Potter, or we're going to miss the train.

- I would go faster if you helped pull the car that has OUR things.

- Don't be complaining, James or these girls will think we're lazy.

He stares at them. All four of them. One by one. He not only stares but LOOKS AT THEM. With the half-smile that has made him win fights and slaps in the face (in that order) and the indomitable expression that he has perfected as an art. The girls hold their breath, make a mental note of what it feels like to have a heart attack and blush.

Leaning against the cart, James greets them with a slight nod of the head, saying "Hello, girls" with the same cheekiness with which he tells the teachers "It wasn't me, sir, who has burned the waxing" when he still has gunpowder in the hands.

Sirius advances in the station saying "See you later, pretty ladies" and James goes ahead with him taking one last look to make sure they've had in them the devastating hormonal effect expected of two teen legends of Quidditch.

- God, I want to go back.

Excited, Sirius pushes his way through the crowd. James follows him.

- Me too.

Today as yesterday, it is good to know that they are still the kings of the school.

Beware Hogwarts, the Gryffindor boys are in their seventh year.