60

Chapter 60: Farewell

The following morning, Wade was roused from sleep by his father an hour earlier than his alarm was set.

"It snowed last night, Wade," Ferdinand's voice was still groggy with cold as he urged, "Get up quickly, we need to leave early today."

Wade sat up, ran his fingers through his tousled hair, and drew back the curtains. Outside, snow blanketed the windowsill, about two inches thick, turning the yard into a pristine white. Footprints circled the car, remnants of Ferdinand's efforts to clear snow earlier.

Quickly dressing, Wade descended to the kitchen for breakfast, where he overheard his parents' discussion.

"Listen, dear, it's too cold today. No need for all of us to go to the station. I can see Wade off alone," Ferdinand reasoned.

"But I want to see him off too. I won't see him for half a year once he's back at school," Fiona insisted.

The debate carried on, but Ferdinand ultimately stood firm, a rare moment when he asserted his decision despite usually deferring to Fiona.

Once they emerged from the kitchen, Wade pretended not to have overheard. After breakfast, he asked, "Mom, could you take care of Miss Ava until the weather clears? She can fly to Hogwarts then."

"Of course!" Fiona agreed cheerfully, already planning, "I can make owl food myself. General Bard's rations are running low, and Millien—oh, I think she's put on some weight. That exercise wheel I bought—"

Millien, Fiona's pet hamster, was a shy creature not prone to mischief.

Relieved that Fiona was no longer fixated on seeing him off, Ferdinand swiftly finished breakfast. He loaded Wade's large suitcase into the car trunk.

"Goodbye, Mom," Wade turned to Fiona before climbing into the car. She stood at the door, waving vigorously.

The car set off slowly.

As Ferdinand predicted, the roads were slippery from the previous night's snow. Despite cautious driving, they encountered a minor collision—two cars halted by the roadside, debris scattered on the snow.

The car fell silent. Wade gazed out the window, his vision momentarily blurred. A gray car seemed to materialize beside them, almost as if it had materialized from thin air.

"Ah!"

"What's wrong?" Ferdinand glanced at his son's alarmed expression in the rearview mirror.

"Nothing... I thought I saw a car rear-ending—"

"It happens," Ferdinand focused ahead, wary of potential accidents.

For several minutes, Wade watched the gray car drive parallel before abruptly vanishing from sight. When he spotted it again, it was tailing another vehicle ahead, then raced through an intersection just as the traffic light switched from green to red.

No one on the street seemed to notice, not even Ferdinand, who missed the car's seemingly ghostly movements.

—If an ordinary person witnessed this, they might chalk it up to a ghostly encounter, Wade mused.

The leisurely drive eventually brought them to King's Cross Station, still over ten minutes before the train's departure. Ferdinand unloaded Wade's suitcase onto a trolley, pushing it toward Platform 9¾. As they arrived, Ferdinand's pace slowed until he came to a halt.

Wade took his hand.

"Let's go together, Dad," Wade urged.

Ferdinand managed a wry smile. "No, Wade—I'm not a wizard, I can't—"

"Yes," Wade interrupted, explaining, "Platform 9¾ has no magical restrictions; even Muggles can enter. The Ministry of Magic simply cloaks it, typically unnoticed by Muggles."

"So— I—"

Taking a deep breath, Ferdinand stared apprehensively at the brick wall ahead, as though facing some monstrous entity. "I can enter this platform—"

"Yes, come with me," Wade reassured, guiding him forward. Ferdinand, tense, closed his eyes involuntarily—but nothing happened.

Except for the sudden roar in his ears.

A scarlet train sat at the platform, doors wide open. Hogwarts students in uniform leaned out, bidding farewells to parents. The platform bustled with activity: children darting about, reluctant goodbyes, and cats prowling freely while owls peered from cages. Older students gathered, discussing holiday homework, while some younger ones squirmed in their mothers' embraces, pleading, "Don't kiss me like that, Mom—I'm not a child!"

"Have you packed your friend books?" A stern-looking elderly woman queried her charge, "Don't lose them, remember to check them daily."

The earnest child nodded, "Yes, Grandma."

"Dad, can I get another friend book?" A girl clung to her father's arm, "I have so many friends at school—my sister isn't starting until later; you can get her one then—"

"Don't even think about it—" A younger girl interjected fiercely, "That's mine!"

Observing, it seemed every third passenger discussed Friend Books. Some scribbled incessantly, engrossed in "online chats," while others checked their books every few minutes, equipped with pocket pens or ear-clipped quills for prompt replies.

Ferdinand watched, absorbed—Platform 9¾ differed from Diagon Alley. Once his gateway to magical dreams, it ultimately excluded him. Childhood fantasies of embarking on magical journeys here ended when he first set foot at age thirty-two.

After a moment, Ferdinand tore his gaze away, voice barely steady, "Let's go, Wade—let's find your compartment."

They walked along the platform until finding an empty carriage. Wade stowed his suitcase, stepped onto the train, and bid his father goodbye.

"Wa—"

Ferdinand rested a hand on Wade's shoulder, wanting to say more but faltering.

Encourage him to study diligently?

—Wade already exceeded in studies.

Urge him to foster strong relationships?

—Ferdinand had stressed this countless times.

Tell him... that his parents would always support him, to ask for help when needed?

—But Ferdinand knew their help was futile in the wizarding world. Even if Wade sought aid, what could they do beyond sympathizing?

After a pause, Ferdinand tightened his grip slightly, "We're always proud of you, Wade—whatever challenges you face, don't fear them. Seek your teachers' help when needed, understand?"

Wade nodded, meeting his father's gaze, "Dad, at first, you didn't want me to attend Hogwarts, did you? Why didn't you try to stop it?"

"... I couldn't, Wade," Ferdinand sighed ruefully, "I wanted to, but I couldn't—because I heard that underage wizards, if unable to control their magic, could spawn a dark force called an Obscurus—it consumes them, destroys everything—"

Helpless, he watched his son step into what he viewed as a slaughterhouse, fearing the worst...

But he couldn't intervene.