The King of Slytherin: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 9: A Disappointing Beginning

Harry opened up his trunk. He would be boarding the train to Hogwarts later that day, and he still hadn't finished packing. Harry collected his clothes and placed them carefully on one side of the trunk. Next his books went in, and then all of his equipment. Anything else he needed he could come back and grab on the weekends. Harry quickly rushed down the stairs, trunk in hand. 

"Vernon! Could you drive me to the train station?" There was a pause. 

"I'll be at the car in 5 minutes," came the response.

The Dursleys liked to ignore him, which worked well for both of them. But when he needed something, like a ride, they felt threatened enough to do as he said. It really was the ideal situation. 

Harry picked up his luggage and took it down the stairs to the doorway. He was trying to conserve his magical energy in case he needed it to get to Hogwarts, so he refrained from levitating his trunk. But god, was it heavy. Once Harry got to the car, he shoved it towards Vernon and dropped into the passenger's seat. 

A few moments later, Vernon had lugged the trunk into the back of the car and gotten into the driver's seat. His face had turned a very interesting shade of puce, and his hands were shaking and he started the car. The ride to King's Cross went by in silence, and when they got there Vernon got out as fast as he could, unloaded the car, and drove away. Harry almost laughed, he had truly come so far from when the Dursley's had yelled at him and gave him a million chores to do. 

Harry pulled out his ticket. Platform 9 3/4. Yeah, that wasn't a muggle place. Must be magical. Dragging his luggage behind him, Harry arrived between the stations 9 and 10. Time to look for an invisible barrier. After five minutes of waving his arms in the air and odd looks from passerby, Harry collapsed against the wall of platform 9. Not as soon as Harry was about to give up, a family of redheads walked by. The oldest one, the mother by the looks of it, was talking to her family rather loudly.

"Now, what's the platform number?"

"9 and 3/4 mum," piped up the youngest. At this, Harry perked up. He watched closely as the family conversed, before two of them (twins?) rushed through the wall. Harry blinked. Why hadn't he thought of that? They were soon followed by the the rest of their family. In their wake, whispers had come about.

"9 3/4?"

"What an air-head."

"A bunch of weirdos, if you ask me."

They weren't the nicest of comments, but in Harry's opinion the family of redheads hadn't been nearly quiet enough in discussing the magical platform. What about the Statue of Secrecy? Eventually, the muggles would get suspicious and realize that wizards were real after all.

But Harry decided to ignore it for the moment and board the train. He slowly approached the pillar and pushed his hand in. For half a millisecond, he felt resistance of some sort of marshmallowy texture. But that soon gave way to air. That must be the other side. Pulling his cart through, Harry walked through the pillar.