"You alright, sir? That sounded painful," Ron asked, his voice full of concern as he jogged the last few steps toward me.
Harry lingered a little behind him, watching me with curiosity rather than fear. He looked… young. Younger than I had expected. Fiction had compressed his childhood; reality had not. His glasses were slightly crooked from running, his hair every bit as stubborn as legends claimed, and his eyes bright with confusion that hadn't yet learned how to become caution.
"I am alright," I said, pushing myself up to my feet.
"We couldn't go through either," Ron added, glancing back at the barrier as if it might somehow change its mind if stared at long enough. "Looks like it shut from the other side."
"Are you two Hogwarts students?" I asked, though I knew the answer already.
"Yes," Ron replied quickly.
I pretended to examine him for a moment, as if connecting some distant dots. "That hair… you must be a Weasley. Mr Arthur Weasley's child?"
Ron blinked, surprised. "Yeah. You know my dad?"
"I met him several times at the Ministry," I said. "He mentioned that his children attend Hogwarts. Looking at you, I suppose you must be Ronald."
Ron nodded, impressed by the guess.
I turned to Harry, letting a small spark of recognition show. "Then you must be Harry Potter. I finally get to meet you. We would have met soon enough anyway, just… not like this."
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but I glanced up at the station clock just in time to see the hands settle past eleven.
Eleven oh three.
My stomach dropped a fraction.
"Look at the time," I said, pressing a hand to my forehead in mild disbelief. "The train has already departed. We are going to miss it."
Both boys snapped toward the clock, identical expressions falling over their faces — worry first, then disappointment.
"What do we do?" Ron muttered to Harry, then to himself.
"I dunno… should I break through the barrier?" I made a fist and eyed the pillar. Then I shook my head. "No No No… . That would be a disaster. The Ministry would be on my doorstep before noon. And I don't need that kind of trouble. I have enough work as it is."
Harry looked between us, half-amused, half-lost.
"What about you?" I asked. "Where are your parents, Ronald?"
"They're still inside the station," Ron said. "They went through and then the gate closed. We were thinking what to do when you came running."
"Then we should wait for them outside," I said. "You're too young to sort this on your own. I can go myself, but I'd rather drop you safely. And talk to your father."
Ron and Harry exchanged a look, then nodded together. "Okay."
As we walked out of the platform, Ron added, "We came by car, so we'll find it out front."
I remembered then: second year, flying Ford Anglia, Whomping Willow. That path no longer seemed likely. Either the idea hadn't formed yet or my crashing into a pillar had disrupted it.
While we waited, they whispered worriedly about school, about how Ginny would do, about how angry Molly might be. I listened in silence, half-focused on the crowd.
I kept my senses extended, listening.
About twenty minutes later, two familiar figures emerged through the crowd. Molly and Arthur Weasley, talking quickly between breaths.
"My guess is the gate jammed," Arthur said. "The platform crew took fifteen minutes to sort it."
"At least they got on," Molly replied. "I can't wait to see which house Ginny—"
Her eyes landed on Ron and froze.
Her voice jumped an octave. "What on earth are you still doing here? The train left twenty minutes ago!"
Ron flinched, then endured the inevitable fierce hug. Harry stood awkwardly at the side, the way children do when witnessing someone else's family crisis.
Arthur arrived seconds later, tension still written across his face. His gaze moved from Ron to Harry to me — and recognition softened his features.
"Mr. Chhimpa," he said, smiling with controlled relief. "I didn't expect to see you here today."
We shook hands. His grip was warm and genuine.
"Nor I," I replied. "The barrier closed. The three of us couldn't get through. I found them here and told them to wait so I could speak with you."
Molly paused mid-scold, finally noticing me properly.
Arthur gestured toward me. "Molly, this is Mr. Chhimpa. The one I told you about two weeks ago."
"Oh," Molly said, recognition dawning. "Yes. You helped Arthur at the Ministry."
I offered a polite nod. Arthur looked grateful I didn't elaborate.
While Molly fussed over Ron's jumper and checked if anything was missing, Arthur leaned closer.
"So?" I asked him. "What happens now? How are planning to take them?"
"Not today," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I have urgent work at the Ministry. I'll take them on tomorrow's train. And for now, I'll write to Professor McGonagall so she knows what's happened."
"I can take them," I offered. "I'm going anyway. You do your work. No need to rearrange anything."
Arthur's relief was instant. "That would be a great help. Truly."
Molly turned, hearing the tail end. "If it's safe. And if, you're sure."
"I am," I said.
Ron perked up. "How are we going then?"
Harry looked at me, curious again.
I reached into my leather bag, secretly invoked my item box, and pulled out the broom. The polished handle caught the sunlight.
Harry blinked several times and then smiled a little
Ron's jaw dropped. "Blimey! Is that a Nimbus Two Thousand and One?"
Mr. Weasley also had shocked expression. "Last time we met you had a Nimbus Two Thousand. I didn't know you were so fond of brooms." He said with a smile.
"I sold the old one second-hand and upgraded," I admitted. "I couldn't resist. And I even got a discount."
"With this we will reach Hogwarts within 4-5 hours. You two are going to welcoming your friends there" I added. "I could Apparate, but I don't think children would enjoy that experience quite yet."
Harry frowned slightly "If it's faster, why take the train at all?"
"Two reasons," I said. "First, I happen to enjoy travelling in trains. Second… well, you will understand once we get there."
Both boys nodded, half understanding, half intrigued.
"Put your things in the bag," I told them. "It will be easier in the air."
Harry placed his trunk and owl's cage gently inside. Ron patted his rat's carrier before sliding it in too. "Come on, Scabbers. Don't panic. It's just a bag."
I spoke with the Weasleys a few more moments before we exchanged goodbyes. Then I led the boys into a quiet alley where no one could see.
I mounted the broom first. Harry climbed behind me, Ron behind him. They held tight as the broom lifted from the pavement, the wind cutting through the alleyway as London fell away below us.
The higher we rose, the quieter the world became. Rooftops unfurled like a map, streets shrinking into threads, and clouds touched us with cool fingers as we broke past the city air.
Above it all, the world felt wider. Freer. And peaceful in a way ground never managed to be.
As soon as we cleared the rooftops and the last clusters of tall buildings, both Ron and Harry leaned slightly to the side to look down. The city stretched beneath us: endless grey roads, glass windows catching the sun, clusters of cars like tiny beetles, and people who looked no bigger than ants.
Ron pointed at random rooftops and chimneys as if discovering a new world. Harry's eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, wide with the kind of excitement that could barely stay contained.
After a few minutes, Harry finally spoke. "Sir… I mean, can I ask something?"
"You can," I said.
Harry hesitated for a breath. "I have a Nimbus Two Thousand. And this broom is faster than mine, but I don't know if it's fast enough to reach Hogwarts in four hours."
I couldn't help smiling at how cleanly he analyzed the situation. "When did I ever say we would only be using the broom?"
That made them both blink.
I pulled my wand and tapped the broomstick. The wood under my hand vibrated once and a faint golden shimmer wrapped around the handle before settling into a steady glow. The wind pitched harder against us for a moment and the broom surged forward, nearly doubling its speed.
Harry's excitement was immediate. Ron's reaction was split between awe and mild panic. His hands locked tighter around the broom as the ground rushed even further away.
"What magic was that?" Ron asked, peering at the handle like it had grown extra parts.
"Enchantment magic," I replied. "For speed. As far as I remember, Professor Flitwick teaches something like it in your fifth year. It has many applications. You can see how useful it is already."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the wind. "Sir, we're safe sitting behind you, but are you alright? The wind looks intense from here."
His voice carried genuine concern, not childish worry, and I respected that.
"I am used to traveling like this," I said. "But I think it is too much for the two of you."
With a quick flick of my wand I cast, "Protectio Maxima."
A translucent honeycomb-patterned bubble spread quietly around us. The roar of wind died instantly and the broom steadied under our weight.
Ron exhaled with relief. "This is brilliant. I think those two spells are the perfect combo for flying."
Harry nodded, already analysing possibilities.
"Could we use that in Quidditch?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry leaned forward, clearly interested.
"That would be considered cheating," I said. "Using magic during play is prohibited."
"I figured," Harry muttered, though he didn't seem too disappointed.
Then Ron suddenly shouted, voice cracking with excitement, "Harry! Look! The train! We caught up!"
Harry leaned out just enough to see. His eyes lit up instantly. "We are going to pass them."
I steered the broom lower until we were flying beside the Hogwarts Express, keeping speed to match. From above, the train was a long red serpent cutting through the countryside. Through the windows we could see movement and color. It took Ron all of three seconds to spot familiar faces.
"That's Neville! And Dean! And Hermione!" he yelled, practically vibrating with excitement.
Harry pressed closer, bracing himself with one hand on the broom. He saw them too. They looked stunned, pressing their faces to the glass to get a better look.
I immediately recognised Hermione and could see multiple expressions flickering across Hermione's face. Surprise. Then disbelief. Then confusion. Then the automatic urge to lecture someone. Then curiosity. Then indignation. And finally, something that looked very much like exasperated acceptance. She looked like someone who desperately wanted answers but had to wait until after dinner to get them.
Neville waved frantically with both hands, mouth moving so fast he was probably stuttering out half-formed questions. Dean pointed, said something to Seamus, and the compartment became a small frenzy. Hands banged against the glass. Faces smashed against it. The whole thing was chaos and pure twelve-year-old energy.
All of them tried to talk while shouting, but all I caught was chaos. I raised my voice enough to reach Ron and Harry.
"You should save the chit chat for later."
Ron shot me a look like he knew I was right but wished I wasn't. Harry gave a helpless half laugh.
I angled the broom forward and tapped its handle. The speed increased in a smooth surge. Hogwarts Express began to fall behind us.
Ron and Harry both waved goodbye, arms stretched out into the wind. Their friends waved back until the windows blurred and the train became a streak of red trailing across the countryside.
For the next few hours, the world became air and blue and silence. Sometimes Ron talked about Quidditch or pranks or his brothers. Sometimes Harry asked polite, quiet questions. Sometimes they both simply stared ahead, half-bored, half-dreaming.
Nearly four hours later, Hogwarts appeared on the horizon. A stone fortress wrapped in ancient magic, emerging out of the fog and forests like something that remembered older ages and older wars.
"Hogwarts," I said, nudging their attention forward.
Harry and Ron both straightened instantly, excitement returning as if someone had lit a match behind their ribs.