September 1st, early morning.
Today was the day Hogwarts started.
Alan had packed his luggage early and was now standing quietly in front of the gate, waiting. There wasn't much—just a suitcase and the undead cat he held in his arms.
"Stupid cat, your body seems to have gotten a bit colder again," Alan said, gently stroking Canned Food's head.
Canned Food stretched lazily in his arms, rubbing its head against his chest.
In the morning light, Alan's shadow flickered. It was Fireworks. It seemed to be dissatisfied once again with the intimacy between Alan and Canned Food. Alan could only curl his lips helplessly.
At that moment, a car pulled up smoothly in front of him.
"Good morning, Alan," Harold said cheerfully, taking off his sunglasses. "How are you feeling?"
"Sorry to trouble you, Harold," Alan nodded politely.
Harold waved his hand, hopped out of the car nimbly, and helped him lift the suitcase into the trunk. "Get in. It'll take some time to get to King's Cross Station from here."
Alan sat in the back seat holding Canned Food and noticed a small paper bag beside him. He opened the bag and found some irregularly shaped cookies inside, some of which had already broken into several pieces.
"Oh, those are from my daughter's handicraft class assignment," Harold said with a smile as he started the car. "You can try them; they're edible."
"Thanks."
Alan picked up a relatively intact cookie and tasted it. It was very sweet, with a faint aroma of butter. At least she didn't get the recipe wrong, he thought.
The car drove smoothly on the increasingly busy road. As usual, Alan closed his eyes and entered a state of meditation. This had almost become his daily routine. It had to be said that meditation truly could calm one's heart. With his rhythmic breathing, the hustle and bustle of the outside world gradually faded away, and he seemed to enter a peaceful world where only magic flowed. For Alan, this feeling was extremely addictive.
Seeing this through the rearview mirror, Harold thought Alan had fallen asleep and silently turned down the volume of the car music.
When Alan opened his eyes again, the car had already entered downtown London.
"How much longer until we arrive?" Alan asked, looking at the gradually thickening traffic outside the window.
Harold estimated and replied, "About half an hour. Are you awake?"
"No, I wasn't sleeping."
"Then what were you doing just now?"
"I was practicing."
Upon hearing this reply, Harold was suddenly a bit confused. "Practicing magic?"
Alan nodded slightly and continued to look at the passing street scenery outside the window. He wondered what kind of place Hogwarts really was. He was looking forward to it more and more.
"Can I visit your school?" Harold suddenly asked.
"I don't know, but I can ask the professor for you," Alan glanced at Harold through the rearview mirror. "Though I think the possibility is slim."
Harold nodded understandingly. "True, a magic school must be different from an ordinary school."
His tone was slightly disappointed.
With half an hour of free time left, Alan focused his attention on the Book of the Mage in his mind. In the last few days, it had unlocked new content.
Wailing Curse—this was a new curse-type magic. This magic could create various wailing-like noises in the target's mind to interfere with their spirit.
Having had his first experience, Alan didn't spend much energy learning this basic curse, and the process of constructing the spell model was also relatively smooth. Perhaps this was also a benefit brought by meditation. Now, when he used the Weakening Curse, the success rate was close to one hundred percent. For the new spell Wailing Curse, the success rate was also over fifty percent.
"Wailing Curse!"
A wisp of almost imperceptible black gas seeped from his right palm and instantly entered himself. He had only experimented with this curse on animals like birds and cats before. This was his first time using it on a human.
Almost instantly, sharp howls exploded in his mind! It was as if countless malevolent ghosts were screaming, weeping, and wailing at the same time. These sounds echoed continuously within his skull, making it unbearable.
Alan instinctively covered his ears, only to find that the sound didn't diminish at all—the noise generated by the curse acted directly on the spirit, and physical isolation was completely useless.
He gritted his teeth, struggling to stay conscious. This level of spiritual interference was even stronger than expected; no wonder the Book of the Mage categorized this curse as an interference spell.
After about ten seconds, the noise gradually subsided.
Alan took a long breath, fine beads of sweat already seeping from his forehead. It was necessary to experience his own magic personally. Although the process was unpleasant, it at least proved that the spell was indeed remarkable.
"What's wrong?" Harold turned and asked.
"Nothing," Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead, his tone calm. "Just a bit of motion sickness."
He looked out the window and found that the car had stopped.
"We're here, just up ahead," Harold pointed to a building not far away. "Do you need me to go in with you?"
"No need," Alan shook his head. "Well then, goodbye, Harold."
Dragging his suitcase and the cat, Alan walked into the station.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters..."
It should be here.
He muttered to himself as he arrived at his destination—the middle between Platform Nine and Platform Ten. There was a very abrupt barrier wall here.
Just then, the figure of a girl with thick, bushy brown hair flashed and vanished straight into the wall; Alan only managed to catch a glimpse of her disappearing back. That must be the entrance.
Besides that, there was an adult couple standing by the barrier, staring blankly at where the girl had disappeared. Alan had a feeling that the couple looked familiar.
When he approached, the man from the couple gave him a friendly smile. "Ah, you're that child from Diagon Alley earlier!"
Alan stopped warily. "I don't know you."
However, after looking closely at them, a faint impression surfaced. "Oh, you are Gra... Gra... Gra... well, I don't remember."
"Granger," the man added helplessly.
"Good morning, Mr. Granger," Alan nodded politely in greeting, then asked courteously, "Could you move aside? I need to go in."
The Grangers then realized they were standing in front of the barrier and quickly moved to the side.
Alan nodded, said no more, and pulled his luggage straight toward the barrier.
The moment he passed through the wall, he heard Mr. Granger's surprised whisper from behind, "Is this child a bit strange?"
Alan had no time to hear the rest of the conversation, for he was already in a brand-new location: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The view opened up before him; a scarlet steam engine was puffing out thick smoke and was parked by the platform, with a conspicuous sign hanging on the front: Hogwarts Express.
Hmm, a very classic look, Alan thought.
After looking around his surroundings, he hesitated no more, picked up his luggage, and boarded the train.
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