Chapter 90: The People Blocked Outside the Station (First Subscription and Monthly Votes Requested)

Five special dragonwood wands kept Silven in good spirits for many days, and even the fact that no one had come to see him off at the station on the first day of school didn’t anger him.

Whether intentional or not, on this first day of school, Garrick Ollivander received another letter from an old friend: Gregorovitch invited him to Norway to search for the legendary rowan groves visible only under the aurora.

Even Silven, after reading the letter, nearly decided not to go to Hogwarts—how could Garrick Ollivander possibly resist such a temptation?

That night, he packed his things and left; when Silven woke the next morning, the wand shop was empty except for him.

“It’s getting worse and worse—last year they at least dropped me off at King’s Cross station, but this year they won’t even see me out the front door…” Silven muttered under his breath as he went to the Leaky Cauldron to buy an egg sandwich for breakfast.

The Leaky Cauldron served breakfast, but only the egg sandwiches contained no garlic.

Afterward, Silven ordered three bottles of butterbeer, shoved them into his transfigured lizard-skin bag, and slowly stepped out of the pub, raising his wand.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the quiet alley, making the flickering streetlamp sway and creak.

Then came a louder, sharper creak.

A vivid purple three-decker bus appeared as if out of nowhere, stopping right before Silven, its windshield emblazoned in golden letters: “The Knight Bus.”

Next, a conductor in matching purple uniform leaned against the door.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus… I’m Stan Shunpike, your conductor.”

“Where to?” he glanced at the Leaky Cauldron’s sign and offered to carry Silven’s trunk onto the bus.

“King’s Cross station.” Silven followed him inside.

“Figured as much. Three sickles.” Stan turned back. “You won’t need chocolate or a toothbrush, I assume?”

“No, thank you.” Silven handed him three silver sickles and took a random seat on the lower deck.

All passengers here were short-distance travelers; if your ticket cost more than ten sickles, you’d appear on the second or third deck upon boarding.

There were no seats up there—only resting bunks.

The driver was an elderly wizard wearing spectacles thicker than butterbeer mugs.

No sooner had Silven sat down than a deafening BANG shook the bus.

He suspected it was a sonic boom.

The Knight Bus was moving too fast—he gripped the handrail tightly, afraid he’d be flung against the rear window any second.

That was why he disliked riding the Knight Bus—the experience was simply awful.

Once he grew slightly accustomed to the motion, Silven finally glanced around at the other passengers.

There weren’t many: two witches sat at the back, whispering to each other—likely regulars, since they could still chat under these conditions.

Next to the conductor sat a father and son, probably also headed to King’s Cross.

Silven didn’t recognize them and had no memory of them—likely first-years, or perhaps students from the other three houses.

BANG!

Another crash—they shot through London streets, buildings and benches squeezing sideways to make way for the Knight Bus.

At this speed, King’s Cross station arrived quickly.

The driver slammed on the brakes; Silven had to grip the handrail again to keep from flying into the front windshield.

Silven and the father-son pair stood up together; the young wizard, likely experiencing such speed for the first time, staggered wildly, disoriented, and lurched toward the driver.

“Thank you,” Silven said to Stan, who had somehow produced a trolley for him.

At King’s Cross station, a trolley was incredibly useful.

When Silven entered the station, there were still twenty minutes before the Hogwarts Express departed—plenty of time.

From afar, he saw a crowd gathered between Platforms Nine and Ten, many of them familiar faces.

“Seamus, Neville…” Silven greeted the two closest acquaintances. “What are you all doing huddled here? Can’t you talk once you’re on the platform?”

“We’d like to, but we can’t get in,” Neville looked like he was about to cry.

“Impossible,” Silven said. “You’re not Harry…”

Wait—why does that man up front, clutching his head, look familiar?

“Is that Harry?” he asked instinctively.

“Yeah,” Seamus nodded. “Harry was the first to hit the barrier—and then we realized the passage was gone.”

“Huh?” Silven stood there confused.

What was going on?

Didn’t Harry and Ron usually arrive just one minute before departure, only to be blocked outside the station by the house-elf Dobby?

Silven had been ready to enjoy the spectacle—but now… why was Harry here so early?

Though still blocked outside the station, Harry’s situation had affected others too, since it was still early.

Silven quickly counted: besides Harry and Ron, there were Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and a Hufflepuff witch.

Add himself and the one still arriving behind him—that made eight people total.

As the minutes ticked by, the Hufflepuff girl was on the verge of tears.

“Only ten minutes until departure… we’ll miss the train… we’ll be expelled…” she sobbed, eyes red.

“Don’t worry, my dad and Mrs. Longbottom are already looking for help,” Ginny walked over to comfort her. “We’ll get into the station.”

“Besides, this is an emergency,” Seamus added loudly, as if reassuring himself. “We arrived on time, but the station won’t let us in—Hogwarts can’t expel us for this, right, Silven?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Yeah, you’re an Ollivander—you must know something,” Ron shouted.

Wait—what’s the connection between being an Ollivander and knowing how to fix this?

Silven didn’t understand.

But seeing the hopeful looks on their faces, he nodded anyway and said:

“Relax—Hogwarts won’t expel eight students over something like this. And we won’t be late.”

“Even if we miss the train, we can take the Knight Bus to school—we’ll still make it to the Great Hall for lunch.”

Nearly every wizard who’d ridden the Knight Bus complained about its lack of comfort—but no one ever said it was slow… so arriving at Hogwarts from London before noon wasn’t exaggerated—it might even be an understatement.

Yet Silven didn’t notice that behind him, a new arrival had gone pale, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

…

(End of Chapter)