NOVEL NEXT Chapter 39: Dobby’s Assistance
Dumbledore left the Burrow with Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary in hand. Not long after, Hermione and Harry bid farewell to the Weasleys and returned to their respective homes through the Floo Network.
Ever since his disastrous mishap at King's Cross Station last year, Harry had thoroughly studied everything about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Now, unless the sky itself collapsed, nothing was going to stop him from reaching the platform.
Five days later, the sky remained intact, but the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters seemed to have turned into an actual wall.
After Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent Ginny through, Harry and Ron, pushing their luggage carts, charged at the barrier—only to crash into it with a resounding "BANG!" Both boys were sent sprawling onto the ground, their trunks flying out of their carts and skidding across the platform. Hedwig's cage rolled dangerously close to the edge.
Under the bewildered gazes of passersby, Harry and Ron scrambled to their feet, rubbing their heads and backsides while limping to gather their scattered belongings.
As Harry attempted to calm Hedwig down, Hermione's startled voice rang out behind them.
"What are you two still doing here? The train's about to leave!"
The young witch, who had arrived later than usual due to a traffic jam, pushed her trolley forward without hesitation—straight into the very same barrier that had just repelled Harry and Ron.
"Hermione! Wait, don't—"
Harry and Ron shouted in alarm, but it was too late.
Hermione suffered the same fate, landing unceremoniously on the floor. Rubbing her sore backside, she reached out to touch the wall—it was solid, cold, and felt just like an ordinary brick surface.
The spectacle of three consecutive crashes had drawn a crowd and even attracted a patrolling station guard. Worse still, the guard, now highly suspicious of the trio, repeatedly demanded to see their tickets. Unable to provide proof, they were promptly escorted to the station's security office. To make matters worse, Hedwig was confiscated as Harry couldn't present the necessary documentation.
Sitting in the cramped security room, the three exchanged uneasy glances, watching the clock tick past 10:30, then 11:00, then 11:30. Their hopes sank lower with each passing minute.
"We're doomed," Ron groaned. "We missed the train. If we don't make it to the Welcoming Feast, we'll definitely be expelled."
"The adults will realize something's wrong with the barrier," Hermione said, though she looked just as anxious. "They'll come for us soon!"
(Meanwhile, the adults who had successfully passed through the magical gateway, dropped off their children, and Apparated away had no idea what was happening: "Huh?")
After several minutes of panicked discussion, Ron and Hermione finally noticed something odd.
"Harry, why are you just sitting there—? Wait... huh?!"
Ron reached out to shake Harry's shoulder—only for his hand to pass right through.
It was then that they realized—the "Harry" sitting beside them was nothing more than an illusion.
But if this was an illusion… then where was the real Harry? When had he slipped away? Was it when the guard confiscated Hedwig? No, maybe before that…?
Hermione's mind whirred, eliminating possibilities one by one.
Ron, on the other hand, had only one thought: Bloody hell, my best mate is a bloody genius!
At that moment, the door to the security office swung open, revealing a tall, lanky man in a loose brown suit. He held Hedwig's cage in one hand and glanced at them.
"Your—er—family's here to fetch you. Grab your things and come with me."
With that, he effortlessly brushed aside Ron's attempt to block him, picked up Harry's luggage, and strode out the door, carrying the illusionary Harry with him.
"Hey, you—" Ron scrambled to his feet, ready to protest, but before he could shout, Hermione elbowed him sharply in the chest, silencing him with a meaningful look.
The man led them out of the security room, against the flow of the station crowd, and turned left into a small alley beside the train station instead of heading towards the police station.
The further they walked, the stronger Ron's unease grew. Unable to contain himself any longer, he pulled out his wand and transfigured a nearby brick into a heavy stone hammer, gripping it tightly as he eyed the man's back with suspicion.
"Who are you?! What do you want?! I'm warning you—don't think we're just—Hermione, don't go near him! There's something off about him!"
But Hermione ignored Ron's warning and stepped forward, tilting her head as she scrutinized the man.
"Alright, enough teasing Ron," she said with a knowing smile. "Harry, I knew it was you the moment you spoke. But how did you completely transform into someone else? Did you drink Polyjuice Potion?"
She playfully punched the man's chest—but the sensation was… odd.
It felt like… Harry's nose?
"Harry, I'm sorry! Did that hurt?" Hermione asked, suddenly apologetic.
"I'm fine," the man replied, his voice muffled as he clutched his chest. "Just a little nosebleed."
As he turned around, his figure shimmered and dissolved, revealing Harry, who was dabbing at his bleeding nose.
"This was just an illusion technique, not real transformation."
He pulled out his wand. "Aguamenti." A stream of water shot from the tip, and with a flick of his left hand, he directed the water into the air, where it coalesced and instantly froze into a solid block of ice.
Pressing the ice against the back of his neck, he turned to Hermione and Ron. "So, what's our next move—why are you both looking at me like that?"
He glanced at Ron, who was staring at him in open-mouthed awe, then at Hermione, whose expression held a mix of admiration and competitive determination.
"What's wrong with you two?"
Harry had no idea just how much he had shocked them.
Especially the moment he had effortlessly shaped the water into ice mid-air—with just a flick of his fingers.
Silent, wandless magic.
A twelve-year-old casting silent, wandless spells? That was beyond extraordinary.
And yet, neither Ron nor Hermione realized that the surprises were far from over.
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