On the drive to the station, Erwin allocated his remaining three talent points to the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.
His talent in the Dark Arts now reached ten points. Upgrading further would require a hundred—far beyond his current reach.
He'd invested in Transfiguration because his aptitude there was dismal, barely scraping three points. Now at five, it should suffice for a standard class.
Once they arrived at Hogwarts, another allocation opportunity awaited. He'd draw then and see what came up. After all, the school teemed with young wizards—prime targets for whatever opportunities arose.
A gleaming Rolls-Royce pulled up smoothly at King's Cross. Passersby turned heads, their gazes laced with envy.
At the entrance, a young man caught his girlfriend's longing stare and declared, "One day, I'll buy us one. No more eyeing someone else's ride!"
She rolled her eyes. "You? Dream on."
He opened his mouth to argue, only to freeze as a massive shadow fell over him. He whipped around—and toppled backward in terror.
A giant loomed behind him, a small boy at his side.
It was Hagrid and Harry Potter, the story's fated hero.
Hagrid, spotting the fright, bent down. "Everything all right there?"
The man scrambled away. "S-stay back!"
Hagrid's lips pressed into a thin line. As a half-giant, he'd endured such stares before, but they still stung.
Harry glanced at the luxury car, a flicker of envy in his eyes before he buried it. He was bound for the wizarding world now—no Muggle riches could touch that. Magic had shattered his narrow view, leaving envy behind.
Then Hagrid smacked his forehead. "Blimey, I forgot! Harry, you'll have to board the Hogwarts Express alone. I've got an errand."
Harry nodded. "All right, Hagrid."
"See you at school!" Hagrid rumbled.
Harry's face lit up with anticipation. "Yeah—see you there!"
Hagrid lumbered off in a hurry.
From the car, Erwin spotted the odd duo and smirked. "Harry Potter and Hagrid? How intriguing, Tom."
The butler twisted around. "Trouble, young master?"
"Keep tabs on that big fellow," Erwin instructed. "If he stirs up Muggle hassle, step in discreetly. Let him know who's got his back."
Erwin hadn't forgotten his pet egg—it needed magical creature blood to hatch. Hagrid, the Forbidden Forest's gamekeeper, would make sourcing it a cinch.
Tom nodded, hopped out, and held the door.
Erwin stepped onto the pavement, drawing stares from the waiting crowd—Harry among them.
They gawked at his impeccably tailored suit. Harry glanced at his own threadbare clothes, a pang of self-consciousness hitting him. He ducked his head and shuffled toward the entrance.
Erwin adjusted his cuffs. "That's enough. Head home—I can manage from here."
Tom bowed. "Very well, young master. Take care, and owl me if you need anything."
Erwin waved him off and strode inside.
On the platform, Harry stared at his ticket, bewildered. Platform 9¾? He'd asked around, but the staff had eyed him like a nutter.
Anxiety gnawed at him. Was this some cruel joke, barring him from school altogether?
A voice cut through his panic. "Looking for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"
Harry spun around, surprise lighting his face. It was a boy from Rolls-Royce.
Erwin hadn't sought him out deliberately, but the hidden platform was his destination too. Still, charging a wall felt absurd, even if the books and films swore by it. Seeing was believing—and Harry made the perfect volunteer.
"You a Hogwarts student too?" Harry asked.
Erwin nodded. "First-year, like you by the look of it. I know the way—want me to show you?"
Relief flooded Harry's face. "Thanks! I'm Harry Potter."
"Erwin Cavendish."
Harry blinked. "Cavendish?"
Erwin grinned. The family name carried weight in London circles—even a boy raised in a cupboard under the stairs would know it.
"That's the one."
Harry swallowed, a shadow of unease crossing his features. The Cavendish reputation preceded them.
Erwin shrugged it off and started walking. "Keep up if you don't want to miss the train."
Harry hurried after him.
Memory guiding him, Erwin located the familiar barrier between platforms nine and ten. He pointed. "Trolley first—ram it straight through."
Harry gaped. "Through the wall?"
"Exactly. No choice now—trust me. I'm not one for pranks. Ready, Potter?"
Harry clenched his jaw, nodded his thanks, and shoved forward without another thought—like a lad charging into battle.
Erwin watched, astonished, as Harry and his cart vanished seamlessly into solid brick. Bloody hell, it actually worked. Magic defied all sense.
Emboldened, Erwin gripped his own trolley and prepared to follow—
—but footsteps and chatter turned his head.
The Weasleys had arrived: a boisterous red-haired clan, scraping by but full of life.