TYPE
Now what?
HOGWARTS EXPRESS
SEPTEMBER FIRST 2019
08:00 PM
SEPTEMBER FIRST 2019
08:00 PM
Hogwarts Express had been on its way for a while now. This year had started off differently, with most students arriving at the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ - only to be surprised in finding it shut down, while an Auror, dressed as a rail supervisor, took to directing them towards the new Gate H, which was set to the side of the building, directing all non-muggle traffic away from the centre on Kings Cross Station. The New Entrance looked little more than a door, which one opened and stepped through, as it swung closed behind oneself. One might be mistaken in thinking there was no magic involved at all. On the platform, people stood around in a strange mix of gray, black, blue and brown suits and dresses - slightly out of date, but - without a doubt - muggle. No pointed hats. No wands out. No owls. No… magic. Parents waved off their children, the muggle parents looking worriedly at the aurors who would be Obliviating their memories of the platform upon leaving. And then it left, the train - perhaps the most magical thing left on the platform - the whispers of replacing it with a modern engine hanging ominously in the air.
The Train itself offered very little in the way of a reprieve. Instead of people flocking about, looking for an empty cart, the first years were placed in a single open cart - reorganised to look more like a line of pews in a church than regular train seating, where they were formally welcomed by the Dominus Magister (DM) Azazel MacCaa, and his three lackeys. They spent the first few hours of their trip in a lecture, while the upper years were allowed to spread out as normal. That is, till MacCaa and his goons started to move from cabin to cabin, with checklists of all students that should be on the train. Those that were not found, were marked out - and their friends and distant cousins were asked whether they were aware of their location. About three hours into the trip, the first of these ‘stragglers’ were being apparated onto the train, looking shamefaced, muttering how their parents were being taken in for questioning.
When everyone was ‘settled in’ to the satisfaction of MacCaa, those on the train were allowed to take a breath. It seemed that the Magisters retired to their own cart, only doing a patrol every half an hour or so. Students got to move around and find their friends. Choose the cabins they want to sit in, and share stories and gossip. When the trolley started its rounds, and the sweets were being dispensed - did things finally start to feel like Hogwarts again. The hours passed, chatter filling some cabins, snores filling others, until finally word started to spread that the train was less than an hour out from Hogsmeade Station. As students start to put on their uniforms, securing their trunks and checking that they have everything at the ready, the sound of clouds breaking is heard in the distance, rain starting to patter against the windows.
The Train itself offered very little in the way of a reprieve. Instead of people flocking about, looking for an empty cart, the first years were placed in a single open cart - reorganised to look more like a line of pews in a church than regular train seating, where they were formally welcomed by the Dominus Magister (DM) Azazel MacCaa, and his three lackeys. They spent the first few hours of their trip in a lecture, while the upper years were allowed to spread out as normal. That is, till MacCaa and his goons started to move from cabin to cabin, with checklists of all students that should be on the train. Those that were not found, were marked out - and their friends and distant cousins were asked whether they were aware of their location. About three hours into the trip, the first of these ‘stragglers’ were being apparated onto the train, looking shamefaced, muttering how their parents were being taken in for questioning.
When everyone was ‘settled in’ to the satisfaction of MacCaa, those on the train were allowed to take a breath. It seemed that the Magisters retired to their own cart, only doing a patrol every half an hour or so. Students got to move around and find their friends. Choose the cabins they want to sit in, and share stories and gossip. When the trolley started its rounds, and the sweets were being dispensed - did things finally start to feel like Hogwarts again. The hours passed, chatter filling some cabins, snores filling others, until finally word started to spread that the train was less than an hour out from Hogsmeade Station. As students start to put on their uniforms, securing their trunks and checking that they have everything at the ready, the sound of clouds breaking is heard in the distance, rain starting to patter against the windows.