First ride to Hogwarts PV Henry Holbrook

September, 2025


Overall, it had been a tearful and lengthy process, Henry saying goodbye. More tears were shed by some of the Holbrooks than others, mostly the boy himself. His mother had cried as well when she told him to study hard and be safe, but it was only enough to dab away with her handkerchief. His father had a bittersweet smile on his face, and had ruffled Henry's hair, making it even more messy than usual as he told his son to make some friends and make a name for himself. His sister? Not a tear or frown in sight. Helena gave him a gentle punch in the arm, said he better not let anybody give him trouble, since that was still her job. He didn't even have to wait to feel homesick. By the time he had no choice but to pass through the seemingly solid wall to the Platform hidden behind it, he already did, because they could not follow him here. Such was the tragedy of muggleborn first years leaving home for Hogwarts. They had to say their goodbyes early, and with no stories to guide them, they were taking a giant leap into the unknown when they passed from the natural world to that of the supernatural. And they could only hope there would be something soft to break their fall when they landed in this strange new world.

It took the eleven year old so long to pull himself away from the safety net that was his family, he very nearly missed the Hogwarts Express leaving entirely. He'd hugged his grandad's old leather suitcase and guitar case close as he closed his eyes and he jogged towards the wall between Platforms 9 and 10, bracing for impact, and hoping he wouldn't damage anything too sentimental if it came. There was still some small part of him that didn't quite believe he was doing this right. Or that he was magic at all, despite the events of the past few months strongly hinting at the fact that this was not a huge misunderstanding.

The process of slipping through to Platform 9¾ had gone so smoothly, in fact, that he'd only stopped jogging and looked around after nearly colliding with an elderly wizarding couple who were starting to wave off their grandchild. The doors of the train were already very clearly at least considering closing as the final stragglers made their way on, so he had to rush forward - hastily half carrying and half dragging his luggage onto the locomotive behind him as he more or less tripped up the stairs right as the doors shuddered closed behind him.

He took a moment to catch his breath as the train began slowly pulling away from the station, then stood, trying to preserve what dignity he had left after that less than graceful entrance onto the vehicle. Glancing down, he let out a sigh of relief to see that neither of his cases seemed horribly worse for wear, perhaps a little scuffed here and there, but at least he hadn't managed to snap the neck of his poor guitar. Silver lining, that.

Looking about, he noted that several of the compartments were full. And of those that weren't - most were comfortably enough settled, so the prospect of shattering the established ecosystems that had formed by inviting himself into them seemed daunting. Eventually, he found a space that had only a single occupant seated in it, a girl about his age, by the look of her. She seemed happy, in a carefree kind of way he honestly found himself envious of. Sliding open the door, he peeked inside, "Hello there. Do you mind if I join you?" He asked, flashing her a small, hopeful grin while hoping she was friendly.

Lost in thoughts it took me a while to realise I was no longer alone. When the boy's words finally settled in my mind, my head turned towards the door, legs stop swinging, and I blinked up at him in surprise. It has been a while since we departed from London, so I was half expecting I would end up using the compartment alone for the whole ride.

I took him in, a grinning boy about my age with messy hair standing in the door way, waiting on an answer. He was pressing a guitar to his chest as if it was the most precious thing, a big leather suitcase trailing behind him. A smile spreaded on my lips: "Of course not, come in, come in!" I wave him in, happy for the company.

I watched him for a while as he got settled in, before I couldn't hold myself back anymore, leaning towards him slightly. "I am Julia. Julia Grey. What is your name? So, you brought a guitar with? You know how to play it? How long have you been learning to play the guitar? What is your favourite song? And who's your favourite artist?"

Suddenly I froze up, noticing I let my curiosity get the best of me once again. Blushing slightly I leaned back in my seat. My hand reached up to my hair, finding a lock and fiddling with it. A nervous tick. He probably thinks I am weird now. Well done, Julia, well done... Embarrassed I chuckled, sheepishly looking up to meet his gaze.

"Sorry... That... I tend to... get a bit excited..."

Henry nodded in gratitude for the invitation, a small, almost shy motion, coupled with that smile that he was wearing to try and mask how terrified and homesick he was. The boy wasn't short for his age, necessarily. That said, he was still in a train compartment designed by grown-ups and less than 5 feet tall, so he had to stretch a bit to be able to get the suitcase up into the overhead bin before settling into his seat. The guitar stayed at his side, not quite trusting the antique instrument to survive the trip unsupervised.

He kicked his feet a little, his scuffed up sneakers swaying back and forth in minute, anxiety-ridden passes along the carpeted floor. When Julia leaned forward and let forth her barrage of questions, he was left blinking as he tried to compartmentalize them all. "Oh, um..." He glanced down at his guitar case, swallowing nervously, before looking back at her, "My name's Henry. Uh... Henry Holbrook. It's nice to meet you, Julia. Yeah, this was my grandad's before he... before it was mine. He started teaching me how to play when I was little, so I've been playing for about five years now, I guess. Um..." He rubbed his neck when the question of his favorites came up. Was she a fellow child of non-magical people? Would she even know the bands and music he did? Would she think he was weird if she didn't know them? Worse, would she think he was boring if she was familiar and she thought his choices were basic?

Once he was done having a minor existential crisis, he noticed that she'd gotten a bit quieter, and his brow creased as he shook his head, "No, no, no, don't apologize! You don't have anything to be sorry for, it's ok. I'm just not used to people being all that interested in me, that's all. I haven't had to meet very many new people in a while."

After taking a deep breath and letting it out, he continued, "Um... my grandad taught me how to play using the Beatles. And in the past few years I've been playing a bit of Ed Sheeran too. I'd say those are my standards. Otherwise, my mum and dad play a bunch of stuff from the 80s, so I grew up listening to a lot of David Bowie and Queen. Under Pressure's probably my favorite of those; I was just starting to learn how to play that when I learned I was a wizard, so... I've had to pause that." He let out a shy little chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if anyone here would know what a guitar is, being honest. It seems like half the stuff I grew up with confuses a lot of the other magical people I've met. And I've been really confused about a ton of the magic stuff I've come across, myself. My parents are m... uh..." He paused, not quite remembering the weird word wizards had been using to describe what his family was, and the slightly longer word used to describe what he was, "...They don't do magic."

I let out a silent breath of relief at his assurance. Seemed, though baffled, he didn't mind my barrage of questions all that much. "Henry. My mum would say That's a good name. She's a librarian, you know, and very found of names and there meanings haha Anyways, good to meet you, too."

I listened attentively to him speak. So the guitar is actually very important to him. I thought, feeling a tinge of compassion for the boy in front of me. Even without him having to finish his sentence I understood where his grandfather was now. It was very clear in the way Henry spoke that he was close not only with his grandfather, but with the whole of his family.

When he began speaking of the music he liked and tne songs he was learning to play, my eyes sparkled with excitement. Growing up among Muggles I of course knew those artists. "Oh, I love the Beatles! My father kept playing their songs every day, all day - until mom had enough and hexed the stereo to play Tina Turner instead when he put on their songs. Do you know 'Here comes the sun'? Can you play that song, too?

You know, I grew up in Sunninghill near London in a non-magical community. So I know all the 'Muggle technologies' and stuff. Grew up with it. With mom being a witch though, I guess I grew up with the best of both worlds. I might not know everything... But if you have a question, don't hesitate to ask." I added seriously, though a bright smile has returned to my face.

Henry smiled softly as he listened to her talk about her mother and a polite chuckle left his lips, "Glad I'd get the librarian seal of approval, then! I'm almost scared to know the real meaning, though. Knowing dad, he'd say it was Old English for King of the Chicken Nuggets or some absolute bollocks to wind me up. Mum's a reporter, so she'd snort and elbow him in the ribs then give me the real answer, though. Sounds like your mum and my mum both have their own way of telling our dads to pipe down, eh?"

The boy's smile widened when none of his dreaded responses came to pass, Julia wasn't only familiar with his favorite music, but also loved the Beatles too? "That's brilliant, Jules!" He exclaimed, his voice vibrant and less held back than before as he dubbed his companion with the nickname, hoping she wouldn't mind. "Er, sorry. I get that from dad. The nickname thing, I mean. He has fifty or so each for me and my sister." He let out a self-deprecating little laugh, then tried to move past the potential awkwardness.

"Please, 'do I know Here Comes the Sun?', of course I do. It's a classic!" He teased as he unbuckled the case and pulled out the instrument. It was a gorgeous wooden acoustic from some time in the middle of the 20th century, all golden hued grain and perfectly polished to glimmer under the train carriage lights. He reached up and started turning the tuning pegs as he picked at each string until he was satisfied with the sound when he strummed it. Finally content, the boy began to pluck and strum his way through an instrumental rendition of the famous song, gently moving his head to the music.

He glanced up at Julia, "So your mum's magic and your dad isn't? How do they make that work? Bet that was bloody hard for her to explain."

"haha Pretty sure it means somthing like 'ruler of the house', so in a sense your father would be right - minus the chicken part. For what newspaper is your mother working for? Honestly, just going by this, I'd bet our moms would get along splendidly!"

I smile softly when Henry gives me the nickname. I don't answer to it, sensing he felt awkward about it. But really I wasn't fazed by it. On the contrary, it made me happy he felt comfortable enough to even consider giving me a nickname. Curiously I watched him pull out the guitar and started tuning it. I loved music but playing and tuning them was somthing I never learned, though it was fascinating to watch.

Henry played 'Here comes the sun', the familiar melody filling the compartment. When he moved his head to the rhythm, I let my legs swing again, barely holding myself back from humming along. When he finished, I applauded him smiling brightly: "Wow! That sounded really beautiful! I can't believe first time going to Hogwarts I'd have somebody serenade me with the Beatles!" Grinning teasingly I wink at him.

"You bet it was hard to explain - though probably for a different reason as you might imagine haha When dad found out he was thrilled. You see, something I got from my dad is the excitement and curiosity for... everything. So when my mother told him about her being a witch it took - accordingg to mom - months before he calmed down enough to not burst with new questions about the wizarding world or magic. How did your family react when they found out you're going to become a wizard?"

The young boy's dark eyebrows raised swiftly when he heard that answer. "Ruler of the house, huh?" He asked. There was a slight tremor in the tone. Ruler of the house. That's a title with a lot of weight behind it, "Ruler of the treehouse, maybe." He quipped while he continued the steady strumming of the guitar strings. He hummed a few bars as he gathered his thoughts. "I was named after my uncle. Never met him, but from the sounds of it he was a decent sort."

Seeing Julia really get into the music made him smile. He might not have known her very well personally, at least not yet, but other people happy had always made his heart feel warm. "Oh, mum?" He asked when Julia asked about the paper, "She writes for the Bristol Cable." He said, sitting up a bit straighter, a wide, genuine smile on his face. It was rare for him to show his teeth when he smiled, but for once? His pearly whites were on full display, "She's an investigative journalist. She was actually in the running for some award or another for one of her exposés last year!"

When he was finished playing, he laid the instrument down on his legs and started cleaning the wood with a cloth, a slightly bashful flush rising at the very tips of his ears at the applause and the wink. "If you think that was good, you should've heard the way my granddad played. That man had magic all his own, even if he didn't own a wand. I swear when he had a guitar in his hands, the birds would stop and listen." Though his smile remained, the lips covered his teeth again and the crinkles that had pinched the corners of his baby blue eyes had softened almost entirely as he talked.

Those eyes swung upward from the now gleaming wood to Julia's face as she shared about her parents, the hand pausing in its polishing. He chuckled a bit, quietly, so he didn't disturb her story. "Reckon our dads would get along too then." He mused when she'd finished. "He's a lively one, my dad. And he's bloody loud sometimes. A lot of the time, honestly. My sister got that from him, but I've always been a bit... quieter. He says I got his people skills, but, talking with people scares me a bit. I'm always worried I might say the wrong thing or talk too much or not enough..." He made a face. Was he talking too much now? He wasn't quite sure. He'd always had a bit of a hard time telling.

He cleared his throat, chuckling again, but more to try and hide his awkwardness this time, "I kind of admire that in people, though. Not being afraid to be excited and ask questions or try new things."

He paused when the question about his parents' reaction came up, then he snorted at the memory, "Well, at first dad thought the random bloke who showed up to tell them about the magic and everything was some sort of creep. He stood in the doorway and told me to go to my room. Thought he was about to kick his arse. Can't blame him, honestly. Dad's a bouncer, so, when some stranger just comes knocking on the door and knows way too much about his eleven year old son? Yeah, it kinda triggered my dad's security mode. Mum went to the window, reckon she was looking for some sort of car so she could write down the license plate."

Henry snorted once again, shaking his head, "But once he pulled out a wand and proved he wasn't being a wind up about this, then showed credentials? Dad ran up to me like an excited puppy and started saying I had 'superpowers', started asking the poor fella questions a mile a minute until mum shut him up so she could start her own interrogation. Meanwhile Lena came over to me, punched me softly in the arm, and called me Gandalf. Big sister stuff."

Watching Henry's reaction to his name's meaning I smile softly, wondering if he felt pressured by it. It's not a bad meaning, right? Besides, we are still young. Who knows, you might surprise all with the ruler you turn into. The mental image of Henry with a crown and purpur mantle popped into my head. The majestic and self assured aura it projected made me giggle slightly. So different from the Henry infront of me.

My legs kept swinging beneath me when he answered my questions about his mother. A toothy smile lit up his face when he proudly talked. It was the first time I saw him smile this genuinely. In return my own smile grew wider, as I happily listened to him telling me more about his parents.

When he mentioned feeling scared of talking to speaking to people my forehead scrunched up with a mixture of consideration and worry. My smile disappeared, giving way to a thoughtful expression. Do you... feel this way with me, too, right now? I mean, we don't really know each other much but... I don't mind it either way....

I automatically leaned forward, linsing up in his face, blue eyes meeting my hazel ones. I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable but wasn't sure how to convey these feelings without causing him distress or crossing invisible lines. At the same time it seemed I was doing exactly that. Am I being too much like myself? Was I teasing too hard? I felt conflicted of how to proceed.

Henry snorted and began to tell me about how his family found out about his magic i let out a silent breath. Relieved I leaned back again, chuckling along when he mentioned his sister's teasing. Outside the window the landscape kept changing as the time passed. I barely noticed the morning turning into lunch time.