The five specialized dragonblood wood wands had put Harold in such a good mood that even the fact no one ca to see him off to the station on the first day of school didn't bother him.
Maybe it was deliberate—this year, on the very day of term, Garrick Ollivander had received a letter from an old friend. Gregorovitch had invited him to Norway to search for the legendary rowan forest that only appeared under the aurora borealis.
Even Harold, after reading the letter, was tempted to skip Hogwarts. So how could Garrick possibly resist such allure?
That very night, he packed and departed.
When Harold woke up the next morning, the wand shop was empty—he was completely on his own.
"This is getting more and more outrageous. At least last year he saw to King's Cross. This year he didn't even walk to the door..." Harold muttered to himself as he bought an egg sandwich from the Leaky Cauldron for breakfast.
The Leaky Cauldron did serve breakfast, but the egg sandwich was the only thing that didn't include garlic.
Then Harold bought three bottles of butterbeer, tucked them into his Mystic-Pattern Chaleon Pouch, and strolled out of the pub. He pulled out his wand.
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the otherwise quiet alleyway. The creaky old streetlamp swayed with a groaning noise.
Then ca a louder CRACK.
A triple-decker, bright purple bus appeared out of thin air in front of Harold. Gold lettering on the windshield read: The Knight Bus.
Leaning casually against the open door was a young man in a matching purple uniform.
"Welco to the Knight Bus... I'm Stan Shunpike, your conductor."
"Where you headed?" he asked, glancing at the Leaky Cauldron's sign as he helped lift Harold's trunk aboard.
"King's Cross Station," Harold said, stepping onto the bus.
"Figured as much. Three Sickles," Stan replied, turning back. "You don't need any chocolate or a toothbrush, do you?"
"Nope, I'm good." Harold handed over three silver Sickles and settled into a seat on the lower deck.
The first floor was reserved for short-distance passengers. If your fare was more than ten Sickles, you'd be taken to the second or third deck, which didn't have seats—just beds.
The driver was an elderly wizard with glasses thicker than a butterbeer mug.
Harold had just sat down when—
BANG!
He swore it was a sonic boom.
The Knight Bus shot off like a rocket. Harold clung tightly to the nearby handle to avoid being thrown against the rear window.
That was the main reason he didn't like riding the Knight Bus—its utter lack of comfort.
After a minute or two, when he was slightly more used to the speed, Harold glanced around at the other passengers.
Not many people—two witches whispering in the back (probably regulars if they could chat under such conditions), and a father and son sitting near the front—most likely also heading to King's Cross.
Harold didn't recognize them. They might be first-years or students from one of the other three houses.
BANG!
Another explosive jolt. They raced through the streets of London, the buildings and benches outside contorting and leaping aside to clear a path.
At this speed, they reached King's Cross in no ti.
The driver slamd the brakes. Harold braced himself again to avoid flying forward into the windshield.
He and the father-son pair stood up at the sa ti. The younger boy clearly wasn't used to this kind of motion—he stumbled toward the driver, swaying like a reed.
"Thanks," Harold said to Stan, who had sohow procured a trolley for him.
At a place like King's Cross, a trolley was a godsend.
Harold entered the station with twenty minutes to spare before the Hogwarts Express's departure—plenty of ti.
From a distance, he spotted a crowd gathered between Platforms Nine and Ten—many of whom he recognized.
"Seamus, Neville..." Harold called to the two nearest familiar faces. "What are you all doing standing around here? Can't you chat after going through the barrier?"
"We'd like to, but we can't get in!" Neville looked like he was about to cry.
"What do you an?" Harold asked. "It's not like you're Ha...r...ry…"
Wait a minute—was that kid clutching his forehead up front... Harry?
"Is that Harry?" Harold asked instinctively.
"Yeah," Seamus nodded. "He was the first to crash into the wall. That's how we found out the passage was closed."
"What?" Harold stood there, baffled.
What was going on?
Wasn't Harry and Ron supposed to arrive last minute, only to be blocked from entering the station by Dobby?
He had been looking forward to watching the drama unfold—but now... Harry had shown up early.
Sure, he was still blocked from entering the station, but because he arrived earlier this ti, a whole group of people had been caught up in it.
Harold scanned the group. Besides Harry and Ron, there were Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and a Hufflepuff girl.
And with himself, and one more student still on the way, that made eight in total.
As the minutes ticked by, the Hufflepuff girl looked on the verge of tears.
"Only ten minutes left… we're going to miss the train… we'll be expelled..." she sobbed, her eyes red.
"Don't worry, my dad and Mrs. Longbottom already went to find soone," Ginny said, walking over to comfort her. "We will get through."
"And it's not our fault," Seamus added loudly, though he was clearly trying to reassure himself. "We got here on ti. It's not our fault we can't get in. The school can't expel us. Right, Harold?"
Everyone turned toward him.
"Yeah, you're an Ollivander—you'd know," Ron chid in loudly.
...Wait, what did that have to do with being an Ollivander?
Harold didn't get it.
But faced with their hopeful eyes, he still nodded and said:
"Don't worry. Hogwarts won't expel eight students over sothing like this. Besides, we won't even be late."
"If we really miss the train, we can just take the Knight Bus. We'll still arrive in ti for lunch in the Great Hall."
Every wizard who'd ever ridden the Knight Bus had complained about how uncomfortable it was—but no one ever said it was slow.
Getting from London to Hogwarts before noon? Not even a stretch. Possibly conservative.
What Harold didn't notice was that right after he said that, a small student who had just arrived turned pale, their knees trembling uncontrollably.
(End of Chapter)
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