King's Cross Station, 1st September 2024, 9 a.m.
Donald could feel the difference in the air right the exact moment his feet touched the gray concrete around King's Cross Station, a busy part of London where Muggles darted everywhere but, to Donald, withouth much sense to where. They almost looked like crazed-out ants, like when someone disrupts their regimented walking with a crumb or a shoe. After a second of silence his hears howled in protest at the sudden unfamilar traffic noises, before ducking inside the station with Mr. Abernathy, a small but needed reprive, even if King's Cross itself seemed even more of a ant hive than outside, with people zig zagging everywhere all at once without looking at no one but their destination, as if them and only them could see a clearly spelled out line from where they were to their destination.
He reasserted his grip on the steel that helped him carry his suitcase, his knuckles death white.
"Mr Abernathy, is it bad that I'm afraid?" "Dear, this is your first time at King's Cross Station, is it not?", Donald nods. "Then it's no wonder you're afraid." A tear of sadness in his voice, "I myself might have been partially at fault in that, with all my rants about the Express and Hogwart's architecture-"
"Yes, Mr. Abernathy, I rember." Cuts off Donald, more than familiar with his teacher's rants. "What was it, a 'masterful showing of gothic architecture and contemporary magic innovation'?" The plump man before him chuckles, "You have a good memory." Continuing, "But do not worry. It's normal that you feel this way."
Donald nods again, his steps betraying the sort of hurry someone would have out of fear, not trepidation.
Once traversed the charmed wall between Platform 9 and 10, the Hogwarts Express showed itself to the two, enveloped in his white vapour as if the morning mist was just about to vanish, leaving the Platform in this half-state, between dream and reality, the same people there - that were only wizards and witches, obviously - obtained an ethereal quality that Donald noted, one where you couldn't see exactly their faces and you could only make a strong guess of what expression they had. Their voices, too, seemed to inexplicably echo on the platform, even if there wouldn't have been enough space to do that. They resembled ghosts in a way, or distant travellers of the past of the future, but still there to take the only train that mattered.
Mr. Abernathy gave the young boy a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, "You'll do alright boy, don't worry. You've got talent and much more courage than you think you have." Donald could feel his eyes sting even while he was answering him, "Can't we, like, call the teachers to teach me at mansion?" Mr. Abernathy turned to him, "What? Oh no boy, you know that's not possible. Beside-" Crounching near the almost crying Donald, "You know what Mr and Mrs Robinson said, no?" His expression letting it fully show that whatever he could, he would've done for the boy to feel better, "Y-Yes, yes I know what they've said." Donald tries to say between his sniffles, "I'm afraid M-Mr. I..." Falling in the arms of his teacher, "There, there...", when they could hear the engines starting their first noises. "You see, it will get better. You can write to us- me, Mrs Crowfort and everyone else, yes? You don't have to feel alone and beside, the winter holidays will come in a blip, yes?" Stroking Donald's hair before looking him in the eyes. At that Donald gives a more decisive nod, before Mr. Abernathy fishes from his long coat a book, "A present, for you." Between the sobbing and the flush cheeks Donald takes it up to look at it, its cover a brass color upon which is inscribed in crystal white "Magic and the Canvas: A Handy Guide". "I hoped it could help you, you know.." Donald hugs once more his teacher, "I love it Mr Abernathy. It's beautiful!" Looking over it once more to follow the intricate golden lines between each letter, "If-If I can I'll read it one the Express." smiling. "That makes me happy. Now go on. Catch that train. We'll see eachother again, I promise you.". Donald gives one last squeeze at his teacher, his heart already feeling like a piece of it was missing, before letting go and boarding the Hogwarts Express.
