That morning, no one mentioned the word goodbye.
While I drove, Petunia sat in the passenger seat, Dudley in the back.
Harry sat very straight, hands resting on his knees, his backpack placed neatly by his feet.
As if he were waiting for a procedure.
No one spoke during the drive.
Not because there was nothing to say,
but because—
everything that needed to be said
had already been swallowed long ago.
The station was loud.
Suitcase wheels scraped against the ground, and the announcements repeated destinations over and over.
People moved in different directions, unrelated to one another.
It gave me a strange, misplaced sense of comfort.
At least here,
everyone had somewhere to go.
Harry got out of the car quickly.
Too quickly.
As if he were afraid we might change our minds.
He stood on the platform, staring at the wall.
It looked no different from the rest of the station.
Brick. Pillars. Passing crowds.
"That's it," he said.
I followed his gaze.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he added.
I let out a short laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was absurd.
"You're sure?" I said. "It looks like just a wall."
There was no attempt to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
He didn't argue.
He only nodded.
In that moment, I realized something—
he no longer needed us to believe.
He only needed us
to bring him here.
"You won't be coming back, then?" I said.
My voice was light,
but it wasn't really a question.
It was more like confirming an outcome
I wanted to be true.
He hesitated.
"I'll come back during the holidays," he said.
The words stirred an oddly misplaced irritation inside me.
Not anger.
Resistance.
I didn't want to discuss it further.
I didn't want to leave any space
for the future.
"Do you know what you're walking into?" I asked.
This wasn't concern.
At least, I didn't want it to sound like that.
"If they really needed you so badly,
how could they have left you with us for all these years?"
The words came out harsher
than I had intended.
Petunia lightly touched my arm.
Not to stop me.
Just to remind me.
Dudley didn't say a word.
He stared at the wall,
as if it were something that would swallow people whole.
Harry glanced at me.
No argument.
No anger.
That calmness only unsettled me more.
"Go on," I said.
He said goodbye.
Not to me.
More to the place itself.
Then he pushed his trolley
and walked toward the wall.
I stood there, watching his back.
Watching him pick up speed.
Watching him disappear.
No sound of impact.
No glance back.
As if an invisible line had cut him
out of this world.
We didn't leave immediately.
I parked the car farther away,
where there were pillars and shadows—
places easy to overlook.
Dudley spoke first.
"He's gone," he said.
I nodded.
"Yes," I said.
We stood there, watching other children repeat the same act.
Some excited.
Some nervous.
Some turning back to wave.
It struck me then—
we weren't the only adults left standing still.
We were just the ones
who didn't wave.
"Let's go," Petunia said.
I didn't start the engine right away.
I stayed in the shadows a little longer.
Not to make sure he was safe.
But to make sure—
this was finished.
This wasn't a farewell.
It was a witnessing.
Watching a world that didn't belong to us
take him back.
And us—
finally turn around
and continue with our own lives.
At least,
that was what I told myself.