Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Platform 9 ¾, King's Cross station, London

- September 1, 1991 -

As Arthav stepped through the barrier, a rush of cool air greeted him, carrying the distinct scent of coal smoke and metal. The sight before him was nothing short of breathtaking—a grand Victorian-style steam engine stood proudly on the tracks, its polished red body gleaming under the station's lights. A steady plume of steam hissed from its valves, curling into the sky like a ghostly ribbon. The Hogwarts Express.

The platform was alive with movement. Students of all ages hurried about, some reuniting with friends, others sharing last-minute words with their families. Parents fussed over their children's robes and luggage, offering hurried advice as the clock edged closer to departure. First-years, both muggle-born and wizard-raised, stood in small clusters, their faces a mixture of nerves and excitement. Some clung to their parents, hesitant to leave, while others could barely contain their eagerness to board.

Rahul took it all in with a critical eye, his head tilting slightly as he observed the train. "This looks like something straight out of a Victorian-era movie," he muttered. "A steam engine in 1991? You'd think they'd have upgraded by now."

Emily chuckled, nostalgia softening her features. "Some things don't change. Magic likes tradition." She gestured towards the train with a small smile. "Come on, let's get you settled."

Arthav followed her through the bustling crowd, weaving past students struggling with trunks and parents making their final goodbyes. The energy on the platform was electric, charged with the anticipation of the journey ahead. He could hear snippets of conversation—excited chatter about classes, speculation about house placements, and older students recalling past school adventures.

Reaching the train, Emily turned to him, her expression gentle but firm. "This is it," she said, brushing an invisible speck off his sleeve. "Remember, write when you can. And don't get into too much trouble."

Rahul sighed, shaking his head. "Be smart, be careful, and don't blindly trust anyone." His voice was serious, but there was warmth beneath it.

Arthav nodded. "I'll be fine," he assured them.

After a brief hug from his mother and a firm pat on the back from his father, he turned towards the train, gripping his trolley. With a deep breath, he stepped inside, the narrow corridor lined with compartments stretching before him.

Most were already occupied, filled with students deep in conversation or peering out the windows. He walked further down, glancing into each one until he found an empty compartment. Sliding open the door, he pushed his trunk inside and set it in place.

Settling into his seat, he glanced out the window. His parents stood on the platform, watching him. Emily waved, and after a moment, Rahul lifted a hand in farewell. Arthav returned the gesture just as the train gave a loud honk, signaling its imminent departure.

With a final burst of steam, the Hogwarts Express lurched forward, its wheels groaning as it began to move. The platform slowly slid past, the figures of his parents growing smaller with each passing second.

And just like that, his journey to Hogwarts had begun.

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The rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels against the tracks filled the compartment, a steady hum that underscored the quiet moment. Arthav leaned against the window, watching the countryside begin to roll past. The morning light streamed in, casting a warm glow over the seats. His mind drifted back to the platform, to the sight of his parents fading from view.

Before he could lose himself in thought, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, accompanied by muffled chatter. A second later, the door to his compartment slid open, revealing a red-haired boy with a slightly frazzled expression.

"Oh, finally!" the boy sighed in relief. "Everywhere else is full."

Following him was another boy, this one with messy black hair and round glasses. He looked slightly uncertain but gave a small smile as he stepped inside. The red-haired boy glanced at Arthav before hesitating. "Er—mind if we sit here?"

Arthav shook his head. "Go ahead."

Both boys wasted no time hauling their trunks into place, grunting as they slid them into the overhead rack. Once they settled into their seats, the red-haired boy stretched out his legs and let out a contented sigh. "I thought we'd have to stand the whole way at this rate."

The black-haired boy nodded. "Yeah, didn't expect the train to be this packed."

After a brief pause, the red-haired boy perked up. "Oh, right! I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

The other boy straightened. "Harry. Harry Potter."

Arthav blinked. He had read about the name Harry Potter in the books of his past life and watched the movies too, so he already knew about him. The boy who survived. The one who had defeated Voldemort as a baby. He looked normal enough, though, aside from the lightning-shaped scar barely visible beneath his messy hair. He already knew what exactly the scar was, and also he could see the dark magic lingering in it, but right now it didn't matter.

"I'm Arthav. Arthav Nair," he said, offering a polite nod.

At the sound of his name, both Ron and Harry shared a look of realization. Their eyes flicked over him, taking in his features properly for the first time.

"You're—Indian, aren't you?" Ron asked, tilting his head.

Arthav nodded. "Yeah. My father's Indian, a muggle businessman, and my mother's British—a witch."

"Whoa," Ron breathed, leaning forward slightly in interest. "That's brilliant! I've never met someone from India before. I mean, Mum and Dad mentioned there are wizards everywhere, but it's still kinda exciting."

Harry nodded, his own curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've never been outside Britain, so I never really thought about how things worked in other places."

Arthav chuckled lightly. "It's probably not too different, just with some… local differences."

Ron grinned. "I bet. Anyway, my dad works at the Ministry, and Mum stays at home looking after all of us. I've got five older brothers and a little sister. It's a madhouse, really, but getting my Hogwarts letter was the best thing ever." His face lit up as he recounted the moment. "I mean, I always knew I'd go, but still—finally having my own wand and everything—it was amazing!"

Harry, who had been listening intently, nodded. "I know what you mean. I had no idea I was even a wizard until Hagrid told me. My aunt and uncle never mentioned anything about magic. Then, one day, this giant shows up, tells me I'm going to Hogwarts, and suddenly, my whole life changes."

Arthav raised an eyebrow. "They never told you?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. They hated magic. Tried to keep it from me completely."

Ron scowled. "That's awful."

Harry shrugged, as if he had long since accepted it. "Well, at least I know now."

The conversation continued, flowing easily as the train carried them toward their new lives. For the first time since stepping onto the platform, Arthav felt the excitement settle in properly.

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Their conversation was In full swing when the sound of a rattling trolley echoed down the corridor. The door to their compartment was already slightly open, and through it, an elderly witch in a neat uniform peered in with a warm smile.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked kindly.

Arthav looked toward Ron, who sat up straighter at the sight of the trolley, his eyes lighting up. But just as quickly, his excitement faded, and he slumped back down, looking embarrassed. "I—I'm all right," he muttered, glancing at the wrapped package on his lap. "Mum packed some sandwiches."

Arthav noticed the way Ron's ears turned red, and so did Harry. Without a word, Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins. The sight made Ron's eyes widen.

"Blimey, is that all yours?" he asked, voice hushed in disbelief.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. Hagrid helped me get my money from Gringotts. I guess my parents left it for me."

Arthav, who had enough galleons to last the school year thanks to his parents, also pulled out some coins. "I'll get some too. Let's try everything."

Ron hesitated, looking between them, then grinned. "Well, if you're sure."

Harry handed over some galleons, and Arthav did the same. The trolley witch cheerfully passed them stacks of chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and an assortment of other wizarding sweets. Within moments, their small table was covered with snacks.

Ron, still looking a little overwhelmed by the spread, grabbed a chocolate frog first. "I've always wanted to try these," he said, eagerly tearing the packaging open. The chocolate creature gave a feeble hop before he caught it and took a bite. "Mmm—brilliant!"

Harry unwrapped his own, and a card slipped out. "Hey, what's this?" He picked it up and read, "Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh, the cards! You get them with every chocolate frog," Ron explained between bites. "Some people try to collect the whole set."

Arthav opened his own and found a different name: Paracelsus. He inspected the small animated portrait for a moment before setting it aside and trying one of the pumpkin pasties. The warm, flaky pastry was filled with spiced pumpkin, and he gave an approving nod. "This is really good."

Harry, who was still looking at the Dumbledore card, suddenly frowned. "Wait—he's gone."

Arthav glanced over. The card now showed only an empty frame.

Ron waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, they do that. He'll be back later."

They all laughed at that, then continued sampling their snacks. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans quickly became a source of both amusement and horror as they took turns trying them.

"Ugh—what is that?" Harry grimaced, spitting out a bean.

Ron peeked at the color. "Looks like… maybe earwax?"

Arthav took one, hesitated, then chewed. "Huh. Cinnamon."

Ron cheered. "Lucky! Here, try this one." He tossed over a random bean.

Arthav caught it, popped it into his mouth—then immediately regretted it. "Ugh—soap!"

Laughter filled the compartment as they continued their taste-testing, trading reactions and joking about their unlucky picks. The initial nervousness of meeting new people had melted away, replaced by the easy comfort of shared experiences.

As the train carried them further toward their destination, the three of them settled in, already feeling like fast friends.

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