A whole year of preparation had led me there; standing by an unremarkable brick wall in a train station in London. I’d never been on a plane before that morning, nor a train, or in fact alone in any public place as I was right then. Naturally, I was nervous and desperately wondered if I was in the right place. I suppose I expected there to be a sign.

“Move along or you’ll be late,” someone from behind me said. I turned to see who had addressed me so curtly but the older woman that had spoken was talking to another. A boy my age struggled to keep up with her, dragging his luggage behind him as he scurried after the lady. They passed me and approached one of the walls I’d had my eye on. “Right through, come on,” she said to the boy. I watched intently as the woman took his hand and disappeared into the wall in an instant, pulling him in behind her. While Mother had spent nearly every day since my tenth birthday telling me stories of magic and showing me little tricks, I had never seen it to that extent and was a bit dumbfounded. In that moment, it occurred to me that it was very possible that none of the tales I’d heard were fabricated and I wasn’t sure if I was gripped more by fear or excitement. After a brief hesitation, I made my way closer to the wall. Upon inspection, nothing about it seemed magical, but I was almost certain my eyes hadn’t deceived me and—just to be sure—I went to put my hand against the bricks. That proved to be impossible as my hand passed effortlessly through the wall. I flexed my fingers on the other side but felt no immediate difference. Relieved and amused, I smiled and stepped through.

The other side was not as remarkable as I had hoped, though I wasn’t sure what I expected. Perhaps I wanted to see witches flying through the air on brooms or fantastical creatures weaving through the legs of passengers. I saw neither, but I did notice a caged owl being carried onto an old school train by one of the many children in the area. Mother had mentioned owls as an important part of the magical realm but I’d forgotten how. I moved toward the crowd to get a closer look at some of the other owls that were being taken aboard and to finally check out the train. ‘The Hogwarts Express’ was printed across the front of the old school locomotive in big golden letters. Then I knew for a fact that I was in the right place; who could forget a silly name like ‘Hogwarts’?

“All aboard!” a man cried over the noise of the crowd. The urgency of those around seemed to increase immediately. Hasty farewells could be heard from every direction as children of varying ages were ushered onto the train. I took my place in line by one of the train car’s entrances and inhaled deeply. I might’ve been the only one there not smiling. After a whole year, it was finally time.