Silent Secrets

Chapter XVII

We unloaded my trunk and walked toward the entrance to the station. We had plenty of time--it was now 9:45, and the train didn't leave for another forty-five minutes. As I followed my father through the crowded station, I wondered how many of the families around me were heading to the same platform as I was.

Probably not that many, I reflected. After all, wizards and witches had to be a relatively small population, considering that they were spoken of only in the tones of myth and legend.

We hurried along past several platforms, slowing as we passed Platform 7. A frown had begun to crease my forehead, confusion clouding my brow. "Er...Dad?"

My father turned, his expression irritated. "What?"

"Um...why are there no platforms with three-quarter marks? They're only whole numbers," I observed, hope crashing down around me. Could it be that Platform 9 3/4 didn't exist? That this was all an elaborate set-up? But why? What was the point in giving me hope and then snatching it away, while at the same time throwing money out the window for actors and such? Surely there was a less expensive way to crush my dreams?

"No...there doesn't appear to be any others," my father mused. "Well, tell you what." We had stopped, and were by the brick wall separating platforms 9 and 10. "Why don't you run headlong into this wall, and see what happens?"

I stared at him in shock. What?! Surely he couldn't think me so stupid as to sprint into a solid wall! I may have been gullible, but I wasn't that gullible. I opened my mouth to say that I wasn't going to injure myself and look like an utter fool for laughs, and he might as well get on with whatever he really came to London for, because I got the picture. Hogwarts wasn't real. Diagon Alley was a hallucination born out of desperate hope, and magic was a fantasy told to children to ease them to sleep. Before I could get the words out, however, I heard a parent nearby telling her child to do the same.

"Just run into the wall? Why?" the boy asked, looking to his mother for an explanation.

"The wall is a barrier to keep the Muggles out," the mother explained. "You can go right through it and not feel anything at all. Best take it at a run though, because you'd be sure to stop else wise."

"Okay," the boy said, taking a deep breath and screwing his eyes shut. I snorted at his blind faith, feeling my heart clench in sympathy. The poor boy was going to have loads of bruises tomorrow.

He kicked himself into a run, his eyes still held tightly closed. I winced and braced for the screeching impact, but it never came. The boy vanished through the wall, just as his mother had said he would. My eyes popped and my mouth dropped open. "Oh my--" I turned to look for my father, to ask how he could have possibly known about the barrier, but he was gone, having turned and left without so much as a goodbye.

Knowing there was only one real option left, I positioned my trolly and looked about me, hoping no one noticed my disappearance. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, sprinting forward before common sense could get the better of me. I automatically tensed as I sensed the oncoming collision, but it never came. I blinked open my eyes and found myself staring at a scarlet steam engine that was waiting next to a platform peppered with only a few people. I figured more would arrive once the clock ticked closer to eleven. A sign over head read: "Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock". I breathed a sigh of relief. I had done it. Glancing behind me, I noticed a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. I smiled at the words.

I pushed my trolly closer to the train and wondered what to do next. Were they boarding yet? Was I allowed to get on?

"Hello, Miss," a man said, poking his head out of the train. "Can I help you with your trunk?"